Chary Potter and the Years of Reluctance
by Hippothestrowl
Summary: Friendless, bullied, seen as worthless by the Dursleys, Harry's natural rebellious and adventurous nature was repressed. Life was only bearable if he kept out of the way so he grew up unwilling to step out of line. He lives by his wits but has high ideals and courage below the surface. Harry is simply reluctant to draw attention to himself — it's less painful that way! H/G. Ron/Hm.
1. Philosopher's Stone Part 01

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_Author's Notes: _

**chary [chair-ee]  
adjective  
1. characterised by cautious hesitance and vigilance; wary.  
2. unadventurous; afraid of risks and being in the spotlight.  
3. Unwilling to cause trouble for others.**

_The ways in which this story differs from the original are subtle to begin with but by the second half of this chapter they will get more divergent and interesting — and all because of Harry's broken character — everything else starts the same._

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**Chapter 1**

**Chary Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Part 1**

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~~~ Perfectly Normal ~~~

The Dursleys of Privet Drive were perfectly normal thank you very much. But they also had a secret. Almost ten years before, Mrs Dursley's sister had died and her son — well, the Dursleys had been burdened with his upkeep. Oh, they had leaned hard on his scrawny frame in an effort to bend him towards behaving as normally as possible, but the fact remained, Harry Potter was very strange indeed and odd things happened around him: he was 'one of that lot,' as Vernon Dursley put it.

In addition, Harry had a curious, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead: a mark which evoked so much derision by his peers at school that he tried vainly to obscure it with his dark, tousled hair. It seemed to signpost him for bullying as surely as the 'PUSH ME' sticky notes frequently observed attached to his posterior.

"That was the letter-box I heard. Get the post, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper at the breakfast table.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the post, Harry."

"Yes, Uncle." Harry had long since accepted his place in the world at the bottom of the heap.

Three things lay on the doormat. he picked them up without looking closely, carried them in to his Uncle Vernon, then took his place at the far end of the table on the wobbly chair. If Harry had glanced up from his lonely slice of toast he might have noticed his uncle turning rather pale. Instead Harry was looking for the butter dish — it was the other side of Dudley and his cousin wore a smirk on his face that was visible even through a mouthful of bacon. Harry suppressed a sigh and crunched on his thin dry rusk. He knew from experience he would come off worse whichever way he tried to get at the butter. He let it be.

"P-P-Petunia!"

Harry was used to the Dursleys' disputes. He kept well out of them. So it was many days before he realised something unusual had happened to the 'very normal' Dursley household.

"Why'd anyone want to keep sending you all these letters?" his cousin Dudley said to him one bright July morning. "That's nine so far up to yesterday and—" He hesitated while he counted on his fingers.

"What?" said Harry, not really interested. "What letters?"

Dudley stared at him for a moment then sniggered. "Nothing." He sauntered out of the kitchen, whistling out of tune, while Harry continued skilfully splashing fat onto the eggs in the frying pan with a flat scoop. He was familiar with Dudley saying things that made no sense so he quickly forgot his comments.

Harry rubbed a bruise on his arm thoughtfully. For years, Dudley had manoeuvred him into being his practice partner in sparring matches so his cousin could perfect his bullying skills. He insisted Harry fight back which he did, but Dudley easily deflected most of his punches — Harry himself cleverly made sure of that. Whenever he had connected with those meaty cheeks it had only annoyed Dudley who then laid into him even harder.

"Hurry up, boy!" snarled Mr Dursley from the table. "After breakfast I want you to tidy up Dudley's second bedroom. Make it habitable so there's space for you—"

Harry almost dropped the pan he was lifting to serve. "Really! Thank you Uncle Vernon."

Mr Dursley glared at Harry. "Don't interrupt, boy! Make space up there for you to transfer as many of Dudley's old toys from last year. His new birthday gifts you can then take up to his main bedroom for him."

Harry hid his disappointment and wasted no time. At the first opportunity he ran up the stairs to inspect Dudley's other room. It was a dream for Harry Potter as he gazed around. He had never been allowed in here before - especially not on his own — though Dudley sometimes let him look through the open door to make him jealous. Even with Dudley's discarded toys, there was still more volume than Harry had ever had for himself — and there was a real bed to sleep on. He ran his hand over the mattress and wrinkled up his mouth in envy. By the time he had finished carrying toys and video games and a broken television through from the other room, however, the bed was obscured and unusable again. As he trudged back downstairs he wondered if one day he might have such a room himself.

As he reached the foot of the stairs there was a flurry of envelopes spraying through the front door letter-box and he stooped to pick them, knowing he'd only be sent back to get them anyway. Even Harry couldn't fail to notice the unusually large number of letters being delivered that day and, his curiosity mildly aroused, he glanced at the top one.

"Here, boy!" roared his uncle from the kitchen doorway. "Give them here!"

Harry dutifully handed them over. "That first one's got my name on it, Uncle. Is that from Stonewall High?" He was looking forward to starting secondary school after the summer holidays without his bullying cousin being present.

"Erm, yes — I mean no." Mr Dursley looked flustered for a few moments. "It's junk mail. Erm... yes, Mass mailing. Your name got onto a computer somewhere and they keep bombarding us trying to get us to buy er... school uniforms for you. Yes, that's it — school uniforms."

"But Aunt Petunia's already dyed some of Dudley's old things for me."

"Exactly. Damned advertisers don't even know when to stop. Just because someone's nearly eleven they pester everyone to buy, buy, buy! Think we're made of money."

Harry still thought it rather odd. It seemed even more strange when his uncle boarded up the letter-box and, on the following Sunday, letters poured down the chimney. Harry had developed a passive outlook but he wasn't stupid: something was up. But he didn't have a chance to investigate.

"We're going away," his uncle declared out of the blue while Harry was sweeping the hall. Harry shrugged his shoulders. The Dursleys went on holiday every year, leaving him with Mrs Figg down the road so he closed his mind and swept harder. When Dudley said, "Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" however, he paid more attention and soon learned that, for the first time, he would be accompanying them.

"Thanks, Uncle! Thanks, Aunt Petunia!"

When he saw the shack that was to be their dwelling place, however, he had to agree with Dudley's opinion about his father's sanity. It was a filthy hovel perched on a lone island. Why had they come to this forsaken place, he wondered.

It was difficult for him to sleep that night because of the cold draughts that found their way in through the many cracks and crevices. When he finally dozed off he was awakened soon after midnight by a mighty crash: a giant of a man stood in their doorway. He forced his way inside and began arguing with Harry's uncle. Although initially alarmed by this intrusion, it eventually dawned on Harry from what was being said that this man might be the one who had been sending all the letters.

"Excuse me, but... who are you?" said Harry, nervously.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts."

"Where?"

During the next hour, Harry listened in growing astonishment as Hagrid explained that he was a wizard and that his parents had been murdered. He was unable to accept either claim until he saw the Dursleys' reactions.

"You knew?" Harry said to his uncle and aunt in astonishment. He was not particularly interested in his parents. He knew almost nothing about them except that they'd passed him over to Aunt Petunia's family. Maybe for that they deserved to be murdered, he thought. Still... murdered — the Dursleys should not have kept it secret.

"What if we did!" glared Uncle Vernon. "None of your business!"

"Sorry, Uncle," said Harry meekly.

"None of his business!" thundered Hagrid, taking a step towards Mr Dursley and causing him to take several backwards. "Why it's everythin' ter do with Harry, yeh great prune!"

When Hagrid finally presented the letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry his annoyance was replaced by fascination. Here was a way out. He had always thought he was different but now he knew why — and he would be able to leave behind the unpleasant world where he had grown up and travel into a magical community where people would be more like himself.

The next day, Hagrid took him shopping to get the items he would need for his new school, most especially a snowy owl named Hedwig and even a magic wand! He learnt that the one who had killed his parents had tried to kill him too but somehow he had survived and a dark wizard named Voldemort but nobody called him that, had been driven away. Nobody knew why but it meant that Harry was famous — really famous. It also explained the scar on his forehead which, Hagrid informed him, was legendary. And now, at last, he was on his way to Hogwarts School of Magic...

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~~~ Getting There ~~~

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

Uncle Vernon gave Harry a rather nasty grin. "Have a good term." The Dursleys left without another word, all three of them laughing. They had a point, thought Harry. According to the ticket, the train departed from platform nine and three-quarters.

Harry sank down onto his luggage trolley and swung his gaze from left to right. Had this all been a practical joke? Had the Dursleys hired Hagrid to perform his part just so they could abandon him in London with very little cash and some fake money to humiliate him? Harry quickly stopped this direction of his thinking. He had seen the goblins at Gringotts bank; he had witnessed magic when Hagrid had taken him shopping for his school things in Diagon Alley; he himself now possessed a magic wand and had felt something of its power. It was all real.

He wandered around the many train platforms searching for a nine-and-three-quarters sign without success. He didn't want to cause a fuss by asking the platform attendant and decided to find somewhere where he wouldn't be in the way. An overhead walkway kept drawing his attention so he sprinted up its steps to get a higher and wider view. All the platforms he could see appeared to be the ones he had just searched on foot. Something else caught his eye. Down between platform nine and ten near where he had left his luggage cart was what appeared to be an entire family of oddly-dressed people — and they too were pushing trolleys, one of which had an owl perched on top inside its cage.

Harry hurried back down to the platforms wishing he had a Nimbus 2000, a broomstick he had seen on sale in Diagon Alley — but he was not fast enough. There was no sign of the strange group he had seen from above. There was a train on platform nine with all its doors open — but it appeared to be empty, nor did he see any empty baggage carts nearby.

After another twenty minutes he had to concede defeat. He looked glumly at the time on his ticket. He was too late; the train must have left. He walked back to his trolley and sat down beside his owl, Hedwig who was looking wistfully at him. "Sorry, Hedwig. Looks like we may have a long wait. I'm not sure where to go from here." Hedwig held out her leg and pecked at the cage bars. "I suppose that means you want exercise? Look, let me show you again; the cage is never locked, see? You only need push. I'll never lock you in, Hedwig — never. I won't treat you like the Dursleys do me." The bird nuzzled Harry's fingers as he held them at the open door but she remained steadfastly within the cage.

Harry sighed and dug out his Hogwarts letter of invitation and read it through carefully once more. Why had they not given instructions on how to get onto the platform? Of course! He must be the only wizard to have ever been raised by non-magical folk, he thought to himself. All other wizards would surely have a witch and a wizard for parents to advise them. If only he had a phone number he could ring!

Wearily he pushed his trolley the length of the station and found a telephone. He called directory inquiries but they had no entry for the name Rubeus Hagrid anywhere in the country. He decided his only recourse was to phone home to the Dursleys to come and fetch him. He did not relish the thought. He scooped out all the coins he had in his pocket and examined them. Amongst the wizard money was a one pound coin and some silver. He doubted it would be enough to make the call, especially if they deliberately delayed him on the line. In addition, it was now mid-afternoon and he was extremely hungry; ticket attendants and other officials were beginning to scrutinise him in a suspicious manner: he knew he did not fit the normal pattern of either traveller or welcoming friend.

That decided it. He made his way towards a sandwich bar near the entrance to the station and parked his trolley. "Sorry, Hedwig, you'll have to wait here while I..." He stopped and stared at the snowy owl. She had not eaten since nighttime. Surely, there would be nothing to be bought within a Muggle train station with which to feed her. He trundled off to the exit.

"Oi you! Where'd'you fink your takin' that? No trolleys beyond the taxi rank. Can'choo read nuffink?" The irate red-faced attendant's raised wrist-flick gestured Harry back before he could step over the double white line.

With a sigh, Harry removed Hedwig's cage and resumed his walk without the cart.

"You blind or summat? Can't leave it there, can you? Round the bend wiv yer!"

When Harry finally stepped outside, his walk was already a trudge. The day that had begun full of promise had become a nightmare. He failed to find a pet shop that sold anything so exotic as owl food but a butcher's shop supplied him with a few ounces of expensive minced steak to keep Hedwig happy — but what about tonight, he wondered. He looked across the speeding traffic towards the park on the other side of the road.

As soon as it became sufficiently dark he released Hedwig to hunt in the trees while he searched for a seat. He'd seen this done lots of times on the television when he had been able to sneak a look around the sitting-room door. You just lay down a few sheets of newspaper on a park bench and it looked as comfortable as any bed so long as it did not rain. The only newspaper he found had dog poo on it so he settled down on the bench without it. The wooden slats were only moderately hard to begin with but were painful an hour later. Harry had a miserable, sleepless night relieved only when the first glimmer of daylight showed across the duck pond. He was numb with cold and fatigue. He looked around and called but there was no flutter of Hedwig's wings, no glimpse of white coming through the foliage above — though he searched desperately for an hour. He yielded finally to his gnawing hunger and dragged himself back to the station. Perhaps there would be another train to Hogwarts at eleven?

He was bitterly disappointed to have lost his owl. He had tried to befriend her and thought she seemed to show some affection in return — but he knew he had never been successful at making friends; Dudley had made sure of that.

The taxi cab attendant was gone when he reached King's Cross and so was some of his luggage. Harry gaped in dismay at his remaining bags. He placed the empty cage on top of his flat-topped trunk then went further inside the station in search of food. A news stand was offering a range of confectionery, biscuits, and prepacked food.

"How much is that snack bar, please?"

The woman on the stall looked up from the magazines she was sorting. "Thirty-nine-pee"

Harry looked at the remaining Muggle coins in the palm of his hand. "Would you accept... thirty-seven?"

"Would you accept a clip round the ear? Sod off if you can't afford nothing."

Harry's stomach growled with annoyance and demanded action. Reluctantly, he fingered one of his Galleons. "I can give you... one of these... They're gold."

"Yeah, right, course they are." She turned her back on him and resumed hefting her bundles of newspapers, cutting the bands open with a knife and expertly cascading the papers sideways along the shelf above.

Feeling completely wretched and empty, Harry collapsed himself onto a seat in a waiting room, wondering what to do. At least it was warm inside. So warm that his eyes soon began to droop. Two hours later he was being roughly shaken; he had fallen asleep.

"Can't stay here, son." It was a policeman. By his side was a grim-looking station official.

"Have you got a ticket?"

Harry looked at the official and shook his head. He wasn't about to show his strange ticket to a Muggle. Then he had second thoughts and pulled it out. Perhaps they'd lock him up as a nutter — it would be better than another hungry September night in the park.

"Some sort of joke ticket is it?" said the official. "Either get a real one or get out; this isn't a free hotel."

"Where are your parents?" The policeman seemed to be more interested in his welfare.

"Dead," said Harry, trying to sound mournful in the hope of some sympathy.

"But who's—?"

"Ah! There yeh are, Harry!" It was Hagrid ducking in through the waiting room door. "Bin' lookin' everywhere fer yeh!"

"You know this man?" said the policeman to Harry, getting out his notebook.

"Yeah, he's my... uncle. We got separated." Harry stood up. "Hello, Uncle. How'd you find me?"

"Why, Hedwig o' course! She fetched me! Got her on my bike outside, see?"

"My aunt Hedwig," explained Harry in response to the questioning look on the policeman's face. Inside he was feeling nothing but gratitude towards his owl and a little bit ashamed he had thought she had deserted him.

Harry immediately dozed off again in the sidecar of Hagrid's motorbike. When he awoke he was astonished to find the motorcycle was in flight. He gripped the safety rail in panic as the bike growled and roared down towards a huge, medieval castle that was spread out before them like the grandest of toys.

"Welcome, Harry Potter, to Hogwarts School of Magic!" beamed Hagrid.

—oOo—

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**Author's Notes**

_This story will be exploring what would happen through all seven books if Harry had been more passive and withdrawn — as he might well have been considering his upbringing. The results may surprise you! For instance, he's already a day late for school and has missed the sorting ceremony! There is a slight sense of humorous parody here and there but that was not the original intention. It's actually severely cruel how he was raised so it should not be surprising that he is reluctant to draw attention to himself. _

_Isn't seven books rather ambitious? Well, no. I'm not rewriting them in full with every detail because much of what happens in the books 'my' Harry won't do in this story so they'll only be a seventh (haha!) of their length. I've already written the first three so I'll be uploading more chapters quite quickly._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**


	2. Philosopher's Stone Part 02

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_So far: Harry failed to find Platform 9 3/4 so is over a day late arriving at Hogwarts — care of Hagrid..._

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**Chapter 2**

**Chary Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Part 2**

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~~~ Hogwarts School ~~~

The front doors of Hogwarts School swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross. Yet behind that sternness he sensed something much more — something he had never seen in the eyes of the Dursleys. Perhaps it was fair play. Stood high above him on the cold stone steps, she reminded him of a statue he had seen in a picture book at his old school: a lady with a sharp sword in one hand — but tempered by the scales of justice in the other.

"G'mornin', Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. "Here's young Harry Potter for yeh, safe an' sound."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take him from here."

Professor McGonagall took Harry straight up to see the headmaster once he was within the castle. The elderly wizard did not rise from his desk but looked up over the top of his half-moon spectacles with favourable interest, then gestured towards a shelf. "Professor McGonagall — if you would be so kind..."

The elderly teacher took down a big scruffy old hat and placed it on Harry's head without explanation. He was trying to work up the nerve to tell her he already had a hat in his trunk when he heard a small voice in his ear.

"Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see — but only as a last resort. Not a bad mind though. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — but a reluctance to prove yourself or to stand out from the crowd, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edge of Dumbledore's desk and thought, _Not locked in! Not locked in!_

"So you prefer open spaces, eh?" said the small voice. "Ravenclaw's element is air, but are you sharp enough to rise that high?"

_Excuse me,_ Harry thought in his head, _but I know very little about birds._

"Sorry, you've had to revise your lesson schedule, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "Events seem to manage us sometimes rather than the other way around."

"Dear me," whispered the hat, "clearly, Ravenclaw is not for you then. I see a very skillful, crafty side to your character; you're used to having to live by your wits to survive... Perhaps Slytherin? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. Yes, I think Slyth—"

_Thank you, I don't want to cause a bother. I'll accept whatever you decide._

"Mmm... On second thoughts, you're too submissive to be a Slytherin, and since you're not ambitious enough either for that house then perhaps Gryffindor — if only you didn't keep stifling your courage — it's there you know..."

"Are you going to give him the same warning you announced in the Great Hall yesterday?" whispered McGonagall to Dumbledore in the background, "Concerning the stone's dangerous protections? Some students can be rashly inquisitive and venturous."

_No, I don't want to have to be brave._ thought Harry furiously. _Isn't there anything else?_

"Would you prefer instead to go to a completely risk-free school where choices are made for you?" said the hat.

_That sounds perfect!_

"No, I don't think so." murmured Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye as he looked with interest towards Harry whose head was almost lost inside the commodious headwear. "I think he'll get to hear about it soon enough."

"But that would not be just, would it?" said the hat, very softly. "And you are already showing no loyalty to this school so Hufflepuff is completely out. Reluctantly, I have no option but to put you in..." The Sorting Hat raised its voice to announce doubtfully to the room, "GRYFFINDOR?"

McGonagall promptly swept it from Harry's head with a disappointed expression on her face.

"Best unpack your luggage first," she said, hustling Harry quickly out of the door. "It'll be in your dormitory in Gryffindor Tower by now." She looked at her watch as they descended the steps from the headmaster's office. "You'll have wasted an entire morning, Potter, I hope you realise that. Soon be lunchtime!"

"But—"

"Professor!" rasped a voice from along the corridor. "There's Peeves in the store cupboard again."

"Well, deal with it, Mr Filch! I have to get back to my class." She glanced at Harry. "Off you go, Potter!"

"But he's dug in behind the shelving and the pipes where I can't get, ma'am and—"

"Well call the Bloody Baron! I don't have time now."

She hurried off down the next flight of stairs and Filch went off grumbling in the opposite direction. Harry looked around, wondering which way to go. He decided to make his way back down to the ground floor again. Maybe there would be someone he could ask.

He descended as far as possible but was not sure what to look for. To add to his woes, a delicious aroma of cooking food enveloped him; no food has passed his lips since breakfast toast the day before. With his shoulder leaning against the stone corridor wall, he winced his eyes shut against a wave of faintness as it swept through him. This wouldn't do at all, he told himself. Harry sighed and squinted out between half-closed eyelids. A step or two further along the wall was a large painting of a bowl of fruit to torment him further. It was so real looking that he reached out for a particularly sweet and succulent pear...

"What are you doing here at this hour? You should be at your lessons."

Harry turned. A teacher with long dark flowing robes and lanky black hair was approaching him. As he neared, he stopped in mid-stride and stared with noticeable curiosity at Harry's face.

"Well?"

"Sorry, sir. I've lost my way. Could you direct me to my dormitory? It's in Gryffindor Tower."

"You've ... lost your way. The Boy Who Lived... yet knows not where he is going."

"Sir?"

"Where are your school robes?"

"I think they are in my dormitory, sir."

"You think... Very well, follow me!"

The teacher sped off up the stairs down which Harry had just descended and Harry jogged after him, trying to keep up. After several more flights of stairs upwards, the teacher directed Harry down a corridor. "I trust even you now know where you are?" he said and swept off before Harry, peering down the corridor which seemed to be a dead end, could say anything. He was right; the passageway was without any doors. Harry turned to go back.

"Password?"

Startled, Harry spun around; he had thought himself to be alone. His mouth gaped wide. It was a portrait on the wall that had spoken.

"C- can you s- speak?"

"Well, I should hope so! Can't you? If you can, then tell me the password."

"I'm afraid I don't know it yet. I'm new. Can't I just—"

"No password, no entry," said the fat woman in the painting, very firmly. Her eyebrows raised condescendingly and she began gazing at her finger nails.

"Do you know if my luggage is inside?"

"Well, it would hardly come this way, would it?"

"I don't know, Miss. How would it come then?"

"Well, the castle itself of course would have taken care of it directly. On the very first day, as soon as the sorting has taken place, then students' luggage knows where it is supposed to go."

"But this isn't the first day—"

The Fat Lady sighed theatrically and her eyes rolled. "It would have done it yesterday, of course!"

"But—"

The sound of distant running feet came to his ears.

"Hang on to your hairnet — here come the Hiffoplumps. Better stand back."

"Hiffoplumps?" muttered Harry to himself, unsure if the portrait was joking or not. Everything was so strange and new.

"Caput Draconis," shouted ahead a tall red-haired boy the moment he turned into the corridor at full gallop. Harry blinked rapidly. The newcomer was followed by an apparently identical boy with the same flaming-coloured hair.

The portrait swung open and Harry took the opportunity of following the two boys inside through a hole in the wall behind the portrait.

"George, I could eat a barrel of baked potatoes!"

"Me too, Fred. With a quart of butter."

They disappeared up the stairs both swinging their bags which were gaping with a full load of books and parchments then they reappeared only seconds later without the bags and launched themselves towards the exit again.

"Excuse me!" said Harry. "Where do we eat? Only I heard you mention—"

Both boys stopped in their tracks. "Hear something, Fred?"

"Sounded like a first-year squeak."

They both pretended to see Harry at the same moment and jumped backwards a step as if in alarm. More students, girls and boys of different ages, were now streaming into the room and running up and down the stairs.

The twins looked closely at Harry then one appeared to notice Harry's scar.

"Can't be..."

"It is you know."

"You're him aren't you?"

"Who?" said Harry.

"Harry Potter."

"Oh him — yeah."

"Well then, come along with us."

"That's ten knuts you owe me then, Fred. I told you he'd show."

"Yes but I assumed you meant on time, George — like yesterday."

"No specific time was stipulated."

"But that would mean he could turn up on any day during the next thousand years so I could never claim the bet could I because you would insist that we wait?"

"That's the general idea, yes, Fred."

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~~~ First Friendship ~~~

Harry's great hunger had never been so satisfied nor had he ever tasted food so delicious as he enjoyed that lunchtime in the Great Hall of Hogwarts and in such an interesting room. A magical ceiling portrayed the sky overhead — and there were ghosts too; real ghosts. George had pointed out one called Sir Nicholas who, he said, was the Gryffindor house ghost. "He's a bit touchy sometimes," explained George, matter-of-factly, as though one encountered ghosts at lunchtime every day of the week, "but friendly and helpful for all that."

And Harry was introduced to some of the students at the noisy Gryffindor table. Harry had never been introduced to anyone in his life before so meeting this many new people was overwhelming.

"We have a new playmate for you ickle Ronniekins," Fred had said when they first entered as he pushed Harry down onto a bench opposite another boy with red-hair. He was tucking into a pile of cold beef sandwiches and fishing tiny potatoes from a sweet relish with a spoon.

"Hi. I'm Ron Weasley," munched the boy with a quick glance at Harry between swallows and trying to raise his voice a little above the surrounding chatter. It was it all utterly different to Aunt Petunia's unfriendly, clinically-clean kitchen/diner.

"Hello. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Bloody Hell!" said Ron, dropping his spoon with a clatter.

Silence descended on their section of the Gryffindor table and spread like a wave along it to both ends. Cutlery stopped clinking in mid-clink; crockery stopped clunking and chatter became murmurs then became nothing. Heads craned and other heads craned around the craned heads.

Harry blinked at all the attention and tried to look the other way but there was no other way to look that he could find. His eyes alighted on a young girl nearby with thick, brown bushy hair and large front teeth. She was the first to speak and did so in an assertive, bossy tone, "Oh, I've heard of you — you're in lots of my books. I'd worked out you would be in the same year as me. I'm Hermione Granger. I didn't see you yesterday. What happened? Were you late? It's best not to be late - at least, I wouldn't recommend it — not if you want to get on." She paused for breath and frowned at Harry. "You do want to get on, don't you?"

Harry was slightly dazed for a few moments after the sudden and unexpected bombardment of words and he'd never properly been spoken to by a real girl before except a scolding from Mildred the hall monitor at his old school and she didn't count. "Er... Yes, I think so."

"You'd better dress in your school robes then. You should already have them on, you know. It's not just about you — you'll lose us all house points if one of the teachers notices. If I were you I'd leave my meal and go and get changed immediately so as not to spoil it for everyone else."

Harry was astonished. He had said some words to a girl and she had not ignored him but understood him and replied.

Ron was trying to catch Harry's attention and making tiny shakes of his head as if to warn him off. His eyes glanced sideways at the girl along the table then he rolled them. He mouthed something which Harry thought might have been, "She's a menace."

Harry suppressed a smile. The girl was still talking but Harry was practically dizzy from hunger and focused on his meal. After a while he could hear the other Gryffindors resuming their own meals and he relaxed a little. He did, however, take the advice offered and tried to slip away quietly as soon as he was full to try to find his luggage.

But as he arose from the table with Ron he could feel someone's eyes upon him and he felt a sharp pain in his scar. He rubbed his forehead and took a furtive glance towards the front of the hall. It was the teacher with long dark greasy hair — the same one who had led him to his common room that morning. His gaze seemed particularly penetrating but he was talking to another teacher who was wearing an absurd purple turban. His face looked vaguely familiar and Harry realised why. He recalled seeing him when he had gone shopping with Hagrid but he hadn't been wearing the turban then. The pain went as quickly as it had come once he and Ron left the chamber.

They found Harry's trunk and bags in a corner of the first-years' dormitory. Strangely, none of his bags were now missing at all — not even the ones stolen at King's Cross — but the owl cage was empty. Harry blinked. "But where's Hedwig?"

"Your owl, you mean?" said Ron. "Up in the owlery, I expect. Mine's a rat — look, this is Scabbers. Bit pathetic ain't he?" He laid the creature upon his quilt, sat down beside it, and looked around.

"Funny," said Ron. "There's not enough beds."

"I'm not sure I'm really supposed to be here," said Harry, meekly.

"Harry Potter not supposed to be here! Not much! Of course you're supposed to be here!"

"I'll manage anyway. It's better than a cupboard any day of the week."

Ron looked at him strangely and was about to speak but Harry continued quickly, "Just an expression."

He found a spare blanket in his wardrobe and spread it in the corner after moving his trunk and a chair to one side to wall it in. Ron stared.

"You want to tell someone. Fred told me that once the castle knows what house you're in—"

"It produces enough beds — yes, but that's only on the first day, I think. I wasn't here."

"Still, you must ask McGonagall or—"

"I'd rather not cause any trouble. This'll be alright."

"Suit yourself. Say, do you play chess? We've got time before the first lesson this afternoon if you want."

"Yeah, a bit. Well, I've watched it played loads of times."

And so Harry began to feel wanted. A teacher had kindly shown him to his common room; he had his own corner and didn't have to be locked up; two older boys had helped to find the dining hall and had not regarded him as a freak at all; a girl had talked to him of her own free will; he had a friend, an actual friend — well probably anyway; and now he was to play chess — not with himself but with a human opponent!

Life was good, Harry Potter thought to himself.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Man of Constant Sorrow raises a good point in a review of the previous chapter about an unadventurous Harry being interesting but not likely to make a good story. It's worth emphasising that in 'Chary', Harry is not a feeble coward. His normal noble, brave character has been simply suppressed so he is less rebellious and adventurous but he will still act nobly and courageously but in different ways to what you might expect. He has also had to live by his wits to survive so he can find crafty and devious solutions to problems too._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	3. Philosopher's Stone Part 03

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_So far: Harry has just started at Hogwarts and made friends with Ron Weasley..._

.

**Chapter 3**

**Chary Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Part 3**

* * *

.

~~~ An Upsetting Remark ~~~

The first magical lessons enthralled Harry, although the Potions master, Professor Snape — the teacher with long lanky dark hair who had shown him where Gryffindor Tower was — seemed unnecessarily stern with everyone. Harry soon found he was not so fair-minded as McGonagall. Yet still, if Harry behaved himself, worked hard at his lessons, and kept a low profile, then, he hoped, there would be nothing to worry about.

Other lessons like Herbology, Charms, and Transfiguration were more stress-free. But the class he was most looking forward to was flying. Ever since he had seen broomsticks for sale in Diagon Alley he could not wait to try one.

The first flying lesson started off well. Even without getting into the air, Harry felt a strange affinity for his broom even though it was school property. It responded eagerly to his first command but he never got an opportunity to lift off. There was another Gryffindor called Neville Longbottom. He was a slightly chubby, round-faced boy but it wasn't his weight that was the problem. He was so nervous he kicked off too early and launched before he was really prepared. He ended up crashing into the ground.

The instructor, Madam Hooch, was very concerned — for the rest of the class as well as for Neville. "Nobody is to move while I go to the hospital wing with Longbottom! Do NOT attempt to ride those brooms or you'll be saying goodbye to Hogwarts!"

Harry felt frustrated at not being able to fly yet. While the other students were chatting and joking or expressing concern about Neville, he focused on his own broom, wondering what it was that made it seem so agreeable. He opened his hand and the broomstick leapt into it without him even voicing the command. He dropped it guiltily and looked around but nobody had seemed to notice.

"How did you do that?"

He looked over his shoulder and was startled; it was the girl who had spoken to him in the Great Hall. She was also flexing her fingers open over her broom but its bristles barely twitched on the ground and that might have been just the breeze in the grass anyway, thought Harry.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to... It just sort of... happened," he said.

She looked at him curiously and frowned. "Oh, it must be your spontaneous magic, I suppose — if it comes out like that, I mean. I wish I could get the hang of it. I couldn't do it properly even with the command."

To Harry's astonishment, there was envy in the girl's tone as she flexed her hand over and over in frustration. Her name came to his thoughts: Hermione something... A strong desire to help then took hold of him. Harry wrinkled up his brow, trying to remember what he had done to get the broomstick to jump into his hand so easily but he couldn't recall anything special.

"It liked me," he said without thinking, then instantly realised how dumb he sounded.

The girl pulled a face that included something between a grin and a grimace. She swiftly put her hand over her mouth then turned away to examine a scratch on her broom handle — but not before Harry had noticed she wore braces on her teeth.

He shifted uncomfortably, even more resolved to help. _Perhaps it wasn't so much that the broom liked me but because I liked the broomstick._

"Think of it as a companion — sort of like your puppy broomstick. If you welcome it kindly then it might respond better."

Hermione looked sceptical and her nose went up in the air like it had in the Great Hall when she had seemed so very sure of herself. "No, that can't be right, now can it! There's nothing in the Broomstick Basics textbook about attitude. I doubt a broomstick can sense anything — it's just an enchanted stick of wood after all, Harry."

It sounded so strange and so pleasant to hear his name spoken by a girl, that he was reluctant to contradict her. He opened his mouth to speak but they heard Ron getting into a scuffle with a blond-haired boy from Slytherin house over something that Neville had dropped. They turned to look. The Slytherin smashed whatever it was for no reason except pure malice that Harry could see. Ron almost got into a duel over it but eased off without losing too much face. Harry sighed. He had hoped magical folk would be different to what Hagrid had called Muggles. He always stayed well away from these arguments. Best to keep out of it, he thought to himself.

He glanced at the girl. Her expression was showing the same sense of disapproval that he felt — yet she was was opening and closing her mouth, eager to get into the dispute. Harry had noticed earlier that she seemed to want to get involved with people which made no sense at all. Why go looking for trouble?

Harry shook his head, backed off a couple of steps and turned to look at the scenery. The grassy lawns extended right down to the muddy banks of a lake he had seen on his arrival. Its waters looked dark and chilly and rather mysterious. He turned to look across the other side of the castle where there was an extensive line of trees. These also looked shadowy and forbidding. Harry shuddered. Perhaps it was only because it was a grey, blustery day that the surroundings seemed so sinister.

By the time the teacher returned there was little time for any real flying. Harry went away disappointed but optimistic for the future. Ron had mentioned a game called Quidditch that was played on broomsticks. Harry couldn't wait to see what it was like.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught by Professor Quirrell, the oddly-turbaned teacher. A strange thing happened during his class. He had lined up the students in pairs to teach them the basic courtesies of duelling. As he walked along the rows of children, tweaking an elbow here and there to direct a student's wand, his gaze fell upon Ron and Harry and he reached out to rotate Harry's grip to its correct orientation. As his fingers prodded at Harry's he let out a yelp and moved on — but not without first glaring at Harry as if it had been his fault.

Hermione, who had seen the whole thing, left her partner to come over. "Static," she whispered, rather loftily. "It's an electrical discharge, you know."

"Elect-what?" said Ron but the teacher was heading back their way again so they concentrated on their stances and Hermione went back to Neville.

Harry, who had been distracted by his scar prickling dreadfully, rubbed at his forehead.

"Why does she keep talking to us?" muttered Ron out of the corner of his mouth. "Doesn't she know she's a pain? Look, she's showing Neville how to hold his bloomin' wand now!"

The first Charms class had been an introduction and mostly theory, but later ones were much more interesting. At the end of October they were learning to hover objects starting with a feather. Although Hermione Granger had not done very well in the first flying lesson, she was really good in most other subjects; even Ron had to reluctantly concede that. But he got annoyed with her because she often criticised his efforts then pompously showed him how easily she could do it.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her feather rose effortlessly, guided by her wand, and Ron's resentment increased with every inch.

Ron came out of that class in a very bad mood. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. He caught a glimpse of her face — and was startled to see that her face was wet with tears.

"I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Harry pondered that all through the next lesson. He had managed without any friends all his life. Now he had Ron and was also getting to know Neville and two other Gryffindor first-year boys: Seamus and Deane. In addition, he visited Hagrid and then there was his owl, Hedwig. He was beginning to enjoy getting to know people. All the more reason to feel sorry for Hermione. She wasn't that bad, he thought. Yes, she was intrusive and big-headed but when he compared her to his cousin Dudley or that blond Slytherin who had broken Neville's widget, she seemed considerate and sensible and the tiny amount of conversation he'd had with her... Well, in a strange way it had been a strange thrill talking to a girl — and to one who clearly was oblivious of how others usually treated him at home and in his old school. Harry didn't mind her talking down to him because she did it politely by comparison with what he was used to. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't like the idea of her being upset even though it was Ron's problem not his; he was the one who had upset her.

.

~~~ Halloween Horror~~~

"Why don't you make up with her, Ron?" said Harry, "She's probably lonely."

"That's her own fault though, isn't it?" replied Ron cheerily. "Come on, Harry! It's Halloween. There's a big feast tonight."

Harry shook his head. It troubled him that she still had not returned for their next class. As soon as it was over they hurried to the Great Hall, convinced that she would be there for the celebratory meal.

"She's in the toilet, crying," they heard another Gryffindor girl laughing to her friend as they overtook them on the way.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances but as they entered the Great Hall, the splendid decorations and the excited atmosphere filled their minds and any thoughts of Hermione were squeezed out. There were hundreds of live bats flitting around and lots of candlelit jack-o'-lanterns glowing eerily wherever they looked. The sumptuous feast was served on the golden plates, as it had at the opening feast. It was all rather grand and moody. Uncle Vernon never so much as allowed a pumpkin sticker in the window because, as he said, they reminded him of 'that lot.' The contrast was extreme and Harry's senses were deliciously overloaded.

But they had hardly started on the food when their Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell hurried in through the entrance doors and, swaying on the spot, gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

Silence fell as he sagged slowly down to the floor like a deflated balloon then keeled over in a faint. A full second passed before everyone had absorbed what he had said then it seemed every voice in the Hall ascended together in a great roar as students began panicking and shrieking questions and advice at one another.

The headmaster called for silence. His voice had an authority that overrode all the confusion and he then, quietly and openly so everyone knew what was happening, instructed the prefects to lead the students back to the dormitories.

On the way, Harry grabbed Ron's arm. "Hermione!"

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron drew in a quick breath as he looked at Harry's face. "What should we do?"

"I think you must tell your brother. It's the right way to go about it. He's the one in charge. He'll listen to you."

"Right then." Ron sprinted ahead a few steps to catch up with the prefect who was leading the Gryffindors.

"Percy!"

"Not now, Ron."

"But you're one Gryffindor short."

Percy halted everyone and turned himself around "What! Who?"

"Hermione Granger — she's in the girls' toilets."

Percy acted quickly. "Fred, George — take this lot up. I'm going to find McGonagall to fetch her out."

"Why don't you go and get her yourself," cried Ron.

"I can hardly go in a girls' toilet myself, can I?"

Percy sprinted off back down the stairs and the rest of the Gryffindor students carried on up to their common room.

"I hope she's alright," said Harry, flopping down into a vacant chair as near the fireplace as he could get. He looked at Ron who was dragging over another chair. The worried expression on his face told him he was feeling somewhat responsible.

"The troll's in the dungeon," said Ron. "No problem." But Harry could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Nobody else in the common room seemed aware of or concerned about the problem except Harry and Ron. They waited nervously for news but it was another hour before anyone entered. It was Professor McGonagall.

"Weasley, Potter, in here please." She directed them into the adjacent reading room and shooed out a third-year girl who was making notes from a book.

"I'm afraid there had been a dreadful accident," she began. "Your friend has been injured..." She hesitated, her face turning pale in the flickering torchlight as it dawned on her what she had to put into words.

"She's not our friend, Professor," said Ron then immediately bit his lip. "What I mean is, we know her..."

McGonagall looked confused. "I was under the impression that—"

"What's happened, Professor!" demanded Harry, surprising himself with his own rudeness.

McGonagall drew a deep breath. "You must prepare yourself for the worst. Miss Granger was attacked by the troll. It's very serious. She is not expected to..." McGonagall broke off but quickly composed herself as other students started to gather at the doorway listening. She finally continued but in a hoarse whisper, "Miss Granger is not expected to live."

.

~~~ Patient Care ~~~

"Reckon we should visit her?" said Ron, a week later as they sat working on their history homework in the early evening.

"What for?" said Harry. "She's still unconscious. Anyway, at least she's survived this long so they reckon that's a good sign. What year you got for the plague suppression thingy?"

"Thirteen-forty-seven. But apart from her parents, nobody's been to see her."

"You were the one who was laughing because she's got no friends!"

"I was not laughing!" said Ron, indignantly. "I was pointing out what everybody knows."

The did not speak for a few minutes but scratched away with their quills until Ron broke the silence again, "So, what do you reckon?"

"Yeah, okay then."

"Let's go now." Ron stood up and began putting books away into his bag.

"Now! But it's nearly dinnertime!"

"We've got half an hour."

"You sure it's alright if we go?" said Harry, rising to his feet and putting away his homework without actually agreeing to anything.

"Should be. Merlin! I mean if you can't go and see a friend who's sick—"

"I don't want to cause any bother for nothing. Anyway, she's not our friend is she? I hardly know her," said Harry. " I mean, er... I care about what happens to her, but..."

When they entered the hospital wing it was empty of visitors. Madam Pomfrey came out of her office to speak to them. "You've come to see your friend? This way."

"She's not our—"

Harry dug Ron in the ribs with his elbow to shut him up. Once he saw Hermione he was lost for words anyway. Her head and face were heavily bandaged. Only one eye and her mouth showed. She was completely motionless.

"Blimey!" was all Ron could say after he had recovered.

"Reckon she can hear us?" whispered Harry.

Ron shook his head. After a few moments he said. "Hope not... Hope not... Hope she's not... suffering and..." He whispered one last word so softly that Harry could hardly hear it, "paralysed."

Harry nodded. He didn't know why he had come. There was nothing he could do to help and he just felt sorry for her.

On the way back, Ron was lost within himself. "Wish I'd not said that now — about her being a nightmare, I mean. Wish I'd not said it." He looked at Harry as he walked alongside with his own thoughts. "It's my fault isn't it? If I'd not—"

"Can't be helped now. You weren't to know what would happen anyway."

"I still feel... It's unfair really, you reckon? I mean, she's got nobody. I've got loads of brothers and a sister but—"

"I didn't know you had a sister. Which one's she?"

"Oh, she's not started at Hogwarts yet. Apart from Fred and George and Percy, I've got two other older brothers: Bill, who's a curse-breaker for Gringotts, and Charlie who's studying dragons in Romania."

"Ah, right."

"So, as I was saying, Hermione's not got anybody at home — but her parents of course. Which reminds me, Draco keeps making snide remarks. Calls her a Mudblood which is not very nice when someone's dying — maybe dying I mean."

"Who?"

"Draco — that blond Slytherin who smashed Neville's Remembrall."

"Oh him — he's a prat. I keep out of his way and he doesn't bother me."

They hurried up another flight of stairs and along a corridor before Harry spoke again. "What's a Mudblood, anyway?"

"It's an insulting word for a Muggle-born like your mum."

"My mum's a what?"

"A Muggle-born. Blimey, Harry, didn't you know? Your mum's parents were Muggles. Everybody knows about Lily Potter for Merlin's sake"

"Nobody's really told me much about my parents."

"I'd have thought you'd have found out. Aren't you curious about them?"

"Not really—" Harry saw Ron's shocked expression and added hastily, "I mean, I don't remember them so what's the point? I've never known them and I never will know them. They're complete strangers. Are you curious about say... Mrs Figg?"

"Who?"

"Exactly. She's just some old woman who lives near me. You're not interested in her because you don't know her. See what I mean?"

"Yeah, but Harry... you're own parents."

"Why are they any different from Mrs Figg! Don't keep going on about it Ron! I haven't got any parents, alright? I haven't got any and I never had any that I know of — that I remember, I mean. And I'll never have any. You don't even know what that's like."

"Alright, alright! What are you complaining about it for if you're not bothered about them?"

Harry slowed his walk almost to a standstill and Ron came back and looked at his friend's puzzled expression.

"I... I don't know," said Harry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... I just... didn't think."

"Don't worry about it, mate," said Ron kindly. They resumed their walk.

They reached the Fat Lady portrait and Ron made a mental note not to raise the subject again.

.

~~~ Match Talk ~~~

The first Quidditch match of the season was a disaster for Gryffindor. Ron and Harry were already low in spirits because of Hermione but although Harry thrilled to see the flights of the broomsticks and wished he could be part of it, Hermione had relapsed and Matron had said the next two days would decide either way. It was not the cheers and jeers of the Slytherins that depressed them so much as the excitement of the other houses. Hermione might as well not have existed for all they cared.

"Trouble is, she bossed people around so much they avoided her," said Ron. "Remember when she saw my history homework and nagged me to redo it from her notes? She was so irritating."

"Did you thank her?"

Ron scowled and shook his head. Another Quaffle went through a Gryffindor hoop but he didn't even notice. "If she didn't look down her nose so much... But she makes it hard to..."

"She wasn't as bad as you make out, Ron."

"Huh. Maybe."

As they walked up the main staircase, Mcgonagall was just about to descend. When she saw them, she waited at the top. Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances.

McGonagall took them aside when they reached her into an alcove with stiff-backed chairs lining the wall below the usual portraits. They felt exposed sitting there with the deputy headmistress while other students freely passed by giving them curious glances and smirks.

"First of all, I'd to thank you both on behalf of the school for reporting Miss Granger's whereabouts on the night the troll was loose. Your prompt action certainly saved her life. I have no doubt the creature would have torn her limb from limb if Professor Snape and I had arrived even half a minute later. As it is..."

"She's alright then? She'll be okay?" said Harry anxiously.

"Miss Granger is... not quite herself yet. She's conscious but... Well, I think it best if you do not visit her for the time being. She... That is..."

"She's not really had her arms and legs pulled off, has she!" cried Ron.

"Not quite... but... Some things need time..."

"What was that all about?" whispered Ron to Harry as McGonagall departed. "Reckon Hermione's brain's been affected?"

"I dunno, Ron. It doesn't sound good, does it?"

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_It's more evident in the books than in the movies that it's Ron and Harry who initially make friends; Hermione is not part of their company until after the troll incident. I wanted to take it further and emphasise it even more than the books do. I also think it possible that 'Chary,' ostracised at his old school because of Dudley (see books) might never have had a real conversation with a girl until he met Hermione. How weird is that? It's fun to explore his feelings in that regard._

_The broomstick scene I needed to show 'Chary' not getting involved with 'centre-stage' events like the Draco-Neville dispute and he definitely would not fly his broomstick when told not to by Hooch. But it seemed believable to me that he might have this natural affinity with broomsticks. We know magical folk have spontaneous magic as kids until they learn to control it. We also know that experienced adults can produce nonverbal and wandless magic. Since we're all individuals I'd expect magical folk to be more naturally capable at some things than others. So, by this means he could occupy himself with his broomstick without deliberately flouting Hooch's order._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	4. Philosopher's Stone Part 04

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_So far: Hermione was attacked by a troll and has spent some weeks in Hogwarts' hospital wing..._

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**Chapter 4**

**Chary Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Part 4**

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~~~ Reaching Out ~~~

It was the end of November before Hermione was able to return to school life proper. Lavender Brown came running into the common room in a high emotional state.

"I can't look at her," she said. "What can I do?" She seemed flustered and kept fussing about checking her makeup in her compact mirror then putting it away again.

"What's up Lav?" asked Parvati.

Lavender looked at her wild-eyed then whispered something in her ear.

"Disfigured?" cried Parvati.

"Sssshhhh!" said Lavender.

"Who's disfigured," said George, looking up from his reading before the fireplace. The weather had turned cold enough to have a blaze going and front seats were prized.

"Hermione Granger," said Parvati.

Harry and Ron looked up from testing each other on a list of potion ingredients. "What about her?" said Ron, getting up and spilling his parchments onto the floor, forgotten.

"She's out of the hospital wing just now," said Lavender. "She's with McGonagall. She's — Oooh!" The portrait hole was opening and Lavender shrieked and rushed upstairs to her dorm.

All eyes turned to the doorway. Professor McGonagall stood there with a girl who might have been completely new to the school. The left side of her jaw was twisted, outlining the swell of her large teeth, and the eye on that side was closed. There was a dreadful depression down the other side of her face too but worst of all, much of her hair was gone leaving behind a reddish scab over most of her scalp.

George surrendered his coveted fireside chair, white-faced and, for once, serious. He moved aside as the newcomers approached.

"Here we are, Miss Granger, take this seat where it's warm," said McGonagall.

She had emphasised Hermione's name. Harry had the impression it was in case anyone didn't realise who it was. But Harry knew — and so did Ron. They both sank down shakily into their own seats. It was noticeable that students started to slip away covertly - some upstairs, some out into the castle. Nobody spoke. Hermione herself was silent, staring ahead into the flickering flames in the hearth. Harry thought she looked... broken.

"Here are your books and notes. Look, I'll put them on this table," said McGonagall. "Can you see at all on that side?"

The faint voice that answered grated as harshly as a rasp on a saw edge. "Thank ... you ... Professor ... yes." Each word sounded a painful effort. Two more of the girls, who had been staring yet trying not to stare, now scurried away upstairs.

"Don't hesitate to call on me if you need help," said McGonagall glancing around at the other students who remained. Hermione gave a nod but did not look up. McGonagall's gaze fell upon Harry and Ron and she indicated the direction of the reading room with her eyes. They followed her in and sat awkwardly together around one corner of the central table.

"Miss Granger is still receiving treatment but insists on attending lessons and carrying on her studies. She will eventually have to go into St. Mungo's for more specialist treatment but for now it will not be easy for her — not easy at all."

She looked sternly at the two boys. "I will expect her friends to look out for her during this—"

"Professor, we don't really know her. We're not her friends," said Ron.

"Then you'd better start being just that while you have the chance," snapped McGonagall.

"What do you mean?" said Ron.

"I mean that I suspect Miss Granger might not return after the Christmas holidays if she cannot adjust quickly — and I'm not optimistic that she can. She seems... Her spirit is... That is, her lively, helpful outlook is—"

"Helpful?" said Ron.

McGonagall sighed. "When she... imposes herself on people, tells them they are wrong and what they ought to do — that is her way of reaching out to people, to try to make friends. She—"

Ron snorted and folded his arms on the tabletop.

"Mr Weasley, you were privileged to have been raised with many siblings with whom to interact. Miss Granger's parents are both professional people and their time with their daughter has been rather limited from what I gather — and, of course, too..."

"Too lahdy-dah to let her grow up slowly," muttered Ron, thoughtful at last.

"Well, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but, yes, the only people she has associated with had not allowed her... enough time for play with other children of her own age."

She looked at Harry. "Mr Potter, you are not saying very much."

Harry jerked upright in his seat. "Sorry, I didn't want to be a nuisance."

.

~~~ The Boat ~~~

McGonagall had been right about Hermione. Her outlook had changed. Instead of intruding, she avoided everyone. Her hand was no longer raised in class and she worked alone. She seemed to be lost. Ron and Harry were reluctant to approach her.

Her life was made worse by the Slytherins. They were shameless in their taunts. Almost every day "Grotesque Granger, the one-eyed ogre," and "the beast of Hogwarts," sounding down the corridors would send her running tearfully for cover followed by their jeers and laughter.

Professor Snape was also giving her a hard time in class. He had quickly noticed her reticence to respond to questions and seemed to enjoy targeting her specifically to hear her croaked, embarrassed replies. Nor did it end there. Ron pointed out several times to Harry when he witnessed Snape holding Hermione back after lessons.

"She blames me," said Ron, mournfully one day as Christmas approached and they hurried down to the Great Hall for the evening meal. "I know she does." He paused. "Hates me."

Harry said, "It's not just you. She doesn't talk to anyone now."

"I didn't like the way she was handling that knife yesterday. Kept looking at me."

"Ron, she was peeling and coring an apple. I thought she was going to offer you a piece. If you hadn't stormed out first she—"

"Who knows how the troll's attack affected her mind? Just watch my back is all I'm saying," muttered Ron.

"But I'm wondering if maybe she wants to make friends but is all confused about how."

"Funny way of showing it."

Harry had reason to change his view during dinner. They were the last arrivals and the only seats available were one next to Hermione and one opposite. Ron knew he couldn't eat if he had to look at her distorted features during the meal so he rushed to take the place at her side where he quickly turned away and began talking to Seamus on his other side.

Harry kept his face down as he piled Yorkshire puddings onto his beef dinner. He squinted upwards only to look for a gravy boat. The nearest one was being stirred by Hermione; others were so far along he'd have to call out. He didn't want to cause a disturbance by asking, so reluctantly began eating his meal dry. When he saw her hand move he glanced up again, thinking she was pushing it towards him. Instead, she was furtively pouring something into the gravy from a tiny bottle half-concealed in her hand. Harry stared briefly but said nothing. He didn't want to make a commotion if she was only making it more spicy. Still, it was odd, he thought.

Ron was still spooning potatoes onto his plate.

"You should give it a try, Seamus," Ron was saying. "You might make a good Chaser."

"If I didn't keep falling off me broom!" laughed Seamus.

Ron's hand reached for the gravy on Hermione's side.

"NO!" yelled Harry, leaping to his feet and knocking the pitcher to skid over the far edge of the table and crash noisily to the floor.

Conversations around the Hall came to a halt as everyone stared at the Gryffindor table. Ron looked at Harry who was glaring at Hermione. She flushed and bowed her head. A house-elf had already appeared and was quickly cleaning up the mess with a snap of his fingers. Harry slowly sat down, deeply uncomfortable from all the attention he was receiving but within half a minute everyone had resumed eating and chatting.

"I'm going to confront her about it!" said Ron that night as they prepared for bed after Harry had explained what happened.

"We need proof," said Harry, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "My fault. I shouldn't have—" He peered into the darkness. Deane hadn't come up to the dorm yet; Neville and Seamus remained asleep.

"So you're just going to wait till she kills me?" hissed Ron. "Is that it? Will that be proof enough? Are you even sure you didn't imagine it?"

"I know what I saw!" snarled Harry, climbing over his trunk and rolling himself into his blanket.

"Then tell McGonagall!"

"Perhaps tomorrow," said Harry. "I don't want to cause a fuss for nothing if we can't prove it."

Neither of them could sleep. Seamus was snoring softly. Neville's breathing was heavy and rhythmic. After a while, Ron said, "It's Snape."

"What?"

"It's Snape behind it. Stands to reason. If anyone knows about deadly potions it's him. And remember when he's been holding her back after classes. He's been plotting this for ages."

"Why would Snape want to kill you, Ron?"

"Not me. You."

Harry sat up on the floor and his blanket fell from him. Ron was a shadowy grey shape in the gloom, head burrowed into his ghostly pillow. "What! What are you talking about, Ron?"

"He hates you more than me. He despises you! He loathes the ground you—"

"Snape is stern with everyone. So long as you keep your head down and work hard he's reasonable. He helped me the first day I was here! He doesn't hate me, Ron."

"Did you say 'stern?' Are you completely mental? Haven't you noticed how he singles you out in class? Has a go at every opportunity?"

Seamus rolled over, grumbling sleepily at the noise then resumed snoring.

"Not particularly. Listen, until I came to Hogwarts, I spent my entire life with someone having a go at me morning, noon, and night! At home and at school! It NEVER stops for me, Ron! Snape is nothing special. He's severe with everyone — except the Slytherins of course. It's like Quirrell; he's nervous with everyone. McGonagall is fair with everyone. Binns is oblivious of everyone. I'm not saying Snape's fair like McGonagall but—"

"Fair? He's... Listen, I reckon Hermione expected YOU to grab the gravy, not me. You were as near as me — a bit nearer actually."

Harry sank back down, groping for the top edge of his blanket in the darkness and remembering how he had tried to get his nerve up to ask for the gravy.

"You should speak to Dumbledore," said Ron.

"Perhaps tomorrow," said Harry. "I don't want to cause a fuss for nothing."

But by morning, Hermione was gone and almost all the other students too had departed Hogwarts, yelling and squealing to reach the train station to commence their holidays, and as Christmas approached in the empty hallways of the castle, the incident was forgotten.

As if to draw a curtain across that final act of the drama, a heavy fall of snow that night blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts. The day following Hermione's departure, Hagrid dragged out the large toboggan he used to lug the Great Hall's Christmas trees from the forest and everyone from Harry's dorm gave it try out on the slopes near his cabin. The activity was an exhilarating diversion that pushed all worries and concerns even further away from Ron and Harry's thoughts.

It was not until Christmas eve that they remembered about the gravy boat. Professor McGonagall sent a message for Ron and Harry to come to her office. She had on her travel cloak. Upon her desk was a small basket of fruit.

""Muggles are not generally allowed in the special wards so I'm visiting Miss Granger myself. if you have any gifts or Christmas cards you'd like me to deliver, this would be a good opportunity," she said as she added a pack of soft marshmallows to the basket.

Harry and Ron stared hard, unable to think what to say.

"Well? Don't tell me you haven't—"

"Special wards? Isn't she at home?" said Harry.

"Home? Merlin no! I told you she is still receiving treatment. How could she possibly go home? She's in St. Mungo's."

"But—"

McGonagall looked at the clock ticking softly on the mantelpiece. "Then I'll just have time to visit her parents and inform them of how she is doing."

"Her parents? Aren't they going to see her?" said Harry.

"I told you, Muggles are not allowed in the special wards."

"Her parents are Muggles! Both of them?" Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Surely she's told you? I thought you must know."

"I told you before!" said Ron.

"But you said... I can't remember what you said but I didn't take it in what you meant. You were talking about my mum."

"I told you Hermione is Muggle-born," said Ron. "That's what it means."

"But... But she's best at magic!" blurted Harry. "In practically every class but flying."

"And what difference does that make, may I ask?" said McGonagall, one eyebrow raised a notch higher.

Harry shook his head. He had always thought Hermione must have come from some great aristocratic wizarding family, steeped in the most advanced magic. "How can she know so much in only a few months?"

"Miss Granger's eleventh birthday was well over a year ago when she was informed of her magical status — and she studies extremely hard."

"Tell me about it," muttered Ron.

"So..." McGonagall looked back and forth at the two boys. "You've nothing for her? Well, I'll give her your love at least and—"

"NO!" cried Harry and Ron together. Ron continued, "It's not that kind of relationship — not any relationship at all, really. She might not even remember who we are."

McGonagall stared at the boys. "Very well, then. I'll just say... some of the students were asking after her." She paused. "I must say, I'll be very disappointed if no one actually does." She paused again, looking intently at Harry and Ron.

"Oh... right! How is she, Professor?" said Harry, quickly, nudging Ron in the ribs. "I mean, last you heard?"

"Yes..." said Ron, rubbing his side. "How is Hermione?"

"I was in touch with the hospital this morning to confirm I can visit. She's improving, is all they would tell me. They've taken her off the pain killers now so that's something to be thankful for. That reminds me — I must remember to inform Professor Snape."

"S— Snape?" Harry said, weakly.

"Oh, he's been preparing them for her while she was here and no doubt planned to continue to do so on her return. He won't need to now. At Miss Granger's own request, he and other members of the staff have been giving her special attention in classes to try to bring her out of herself and back into school life. She certainly has the Gryffindor courage in abundance."

With a sudden handkerchief, McGonagall dabbed at her eyes, snatched up the basket and swept away towards the great fireplace where she scooped up a handful of floo powder and said in a strangely high and tearful voice, "I expect to be back this evening but if I don't see you — Merry Christmas, boys!" With that, she was gone, leaving Harry and Ron to gawp at one another in the empty office.

"Pain killers!" said Ron. "In the gravy."

"Yeah," said Harry, "and I smashed it up. No wonder she looked upset. It's not you she must hate now, Ron; it's me."

.

~~~ Christmas ~~~

On Christmas morning, Harry was astonished to wake up to find he had received presents. There was a flute from Hagrid and a sweater from Ron's mum, a chess set of his own, and a fifty-pence piece from the Dursleys which he gave to Ron. But the last gift he unwrapped was strangest of all. It was made of a gleaming, slippery fabric. He held it up. Ron gasped.

"What is it?" said Harry, looking very puzzled.

"I think it's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, with an astonished look on his face. "Put it on."

Harry pulled the cloak on and Ron cried out, "Yeah! Look in the mirror!"

Harry ran to the mirror. There was no reflection whatsoever.

He found a note in the packaging but there was no name:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died.  
It is time it was returned to you.  
Use it well.  
A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Ron examined the cloak closely.

"I'd give anything for one of these," he said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? He wondered what on earth he could ever use it for. Perhaps he could sneak into Dudley's second bedroom in the summer and have another look at the old toys; some of them still worked he was sure. But then it didn't stop anyone hearing the slightest noise he might make so it wasn't worth the risk. He wrapped it up carefully, put it away in the bottom of his trunk, and forgot all about it.

The midday feast in the Great Hall was spectacular. It was the most enjoyable Christmas dinner that Harry had ever had. Turkeys; potatoes, roasted and boiled; chipolatas; buttered peas, cranberry sauce. They also had wizard crackers with party hats and other surprises inside.

Fred and George had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas too and they all fooled around having snowball fights in the afternoon. And for the first time in his life, Harry tasted Christmas cake.

It had been Harry's best Christmas ever by far. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think on it: Hermione had been alone on this special day. He slept badly that night.

And Hermione thought of Harry and Ron too, and McGonagall's well-meaning but hurtful advice to soften her advices in future. She remembered also her parents who, because it was Christmas, had been allowed to peek through the ward's flooed hearth and offer the child best wishes that ill-concealed their infectious sorrowful grief which not even an enchanted quarantine could ever block. Their pale distant faces had seemed to reach out yet never truly reach her. So when they had, at last, to depart, they left behind an immense emptiness and Hermione only attained the relief of sleep that night by crying herself towards it.

.

~~~ The Return ~~~

If Harry had hoped for an early resolution to his troubled conscience, he was to be disappointed. It was not until Easter that McGonagall announced to the house of Gryffindor that Hermione Granger would return after the holidays. Only Harry and Ron applauded the news and their hand clapping faded away rapidly when nobody else joined in.

"How does she... look, Professor?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Almost back to her normal self, but I must ask you all to give her time to adjust. Let her have her own space and she'll be fine."

The other students had no problem accepting that instruction. Keeping their distance was what they planned to do anyway. But Harry and Ron were concerned.

"What for Merlin's sake are we going to say to her?" moaned Ron on the final day of the holiday. "It'll be a nightmare! Reckon she'll be — you know — same as before?"

Harry shook his head. "Dunno, Ron. I think we should do what McGonagall said and give her space."

"Right. Space."

Everyone was in for a shock the next day. Not only was she physically restored and her thick, bushy hair magically regrown, her teeth had been straightened and shortened also.

"She actually looks, erm... not bad," whispered Ron hesitantly as they watched her at dinner the next evening. Neville had landed the nearest chair and was in an awkward, one-sided conversation with the girl.

Harry nodded from his safe vantage behind a tall serving jug. "Even... pretty? Well, not pretty but—"

"Yeah, not pretty but... ahem... Sort of pretty..."

"Yeah, sort of pretty."

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines and especially the message with the cloak which are directly quoted from Philosopher's Stone because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable._

_My treatment of Hermione might seem cruel but without the original troll scene I had find some other convincing way to begin to bring the trio together. The scene with her parents was inspired by a real incident my older sister told me in later years: how she was quarantined when very young with scarlet fever and how she could never reach my mother and aunt through a glass viewing window and how she cried her heart out when they had to leave. I tried to convey in my story how deeply that touched me but I don't know if I could ever quite capture that._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	5. Philosopher's Stone Part 05

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_So far: Hermione, now fully recovered physically from the troll's attack, has returned to Hogwarts but is very withdrawn..._

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**Chapter 5**

**Chary Potter and the Philosopher's Stone Part 5**

* * *

.

~~~ Outburst in the Library ~~~

"How we ever going to speak to her?" Ron said one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. "Never get a chance and when we do... He saw Madam Pince frowning in his direction so lowered his voice. "She looks so... sad, I can't Harry — I just can't."

"I know. I mean, it'd look dumb if one of us sits next to her in class," whispered Harry.

"Exactly. And she goes straight up to the girls' dorm to study soon as she gets in." Ron sighed and Harry heard him pick up his quill again. He didn't look up until Ron said, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. He moved off quickly towards Madam Pince, thankfully obscuring the librarian's keen-eyed view of Ron and Harry for a few minutes.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "What was that all about?" said Harry.

Ron wrinkled up his brow for a few moments, thinking. Finally, he said, "I'm going to see what section he was in," He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and put them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he said. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him, " said Harry.

"But that's against wizarding laws!" a shrill voice piped up to their right. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709 and..." the voice tailed off.

They turned to look. It was Hermione Granger, blushing with embarrassment at her own outburst. She had turned away and was gathering up books ready for a swift departure.

"Anyone ever told you it's annoying when you try to help?" said Harry, astonishing himself with what he knew was coming.

Hermione looked back. Her face was screwed up and there were tears in her eyes. Ron could see the word 'Sorry' forming on her lips but Harry spoke again first.

"Well, it's not true at all," he said. "Tell us more. As much as you like. We need to help... a friend." He couldn't believe he'd said that afterwards — nor could Ron.

Hermione looked taken aback for a few moments, unsure of herself, then a timid smile crept over her face and she put her books back down. "Well..." she began.

.

~~~ Eggshells ~~~

"It's a dragon's egg, Harry," said Ron. "You should have come with me and Hermione."

Ron and Hermione sat down next to Harry under a large oak tree not far from the lake.

"Too chancy. Only you should have gone actually. Why risk all of us?"

"It's daytime, Harry, for Merlin's sake!" said Ron. "We're sitting out here under this tree. Hagrid's hut is not ten minutes away—"

"And suppose all three of us were seen going in there, then tomorrow the egg is discovered? We'd all be up before the headmaster. It'd be obvious."

"It's going to hatch any day," said Ron. "He can't keep something that size hidden forever. He'll be thrown in Azkaban for breaking the law."

"Azkaban?"

"It's the wizarding prison, Harry - for magical—," began Hermione, then promptly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Harry scratched his head. He pulled up a few stones and cast them into the water. "If one of us could sneak in and take it while he's out, perhaps they could release it into the Forest?"

"It won't be easy," said Ron. "We'd be expelled if we got caught."

"But Hagrid's a friend," said Harry. "We have to make him see sense. But just one of us."

Harry thought for a while longer and cast a few more stones. "I do have one idea but..."

"What?" said Ron.

"Your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons, you said. We could send the egg to him. Charlie can take care of it and then put it back in the wild when it's old enough!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron.

"Except..."

"What now?"

"It's still too risky. So many things could go wrong. If the egg hatches before we're ready... I'd just don't want us all to be expelled — or worse."

Hermione looked as though she was going to say something but bit her lip instead and frowned.

"Hermione, you've usually got the best ideas," said Harry immediately he sensed her reticence to speak. "What's the sensible thing to do? With the least risk and most chance of success?"

Hermione brightened up. "I was thinking... Now don't get mad, but—"

"I won't get mad, I promise. Just tell us."

"Well, Dumbledore thinks a lot of Hagrid — looks out for him, I mean," said Hermione, fervently. "If we explain to him, I think he will know how to manage it and keep it quiet too."

"You mean snitch on Hagrid?" said Ron. "That's a bit—"

"It's a bit brilliant is what it is!" said Harry. "Hagrid will be safe. We'll all be safe. The dragon will be taken care of and—"

"And Hagrid will never forgive us!" cried Ron.

Again, Hermione half-opened her mouth but looked at the other two then closed it again.

"Hermione!" cried Harry, "You can't keep—!"

Hermione suddenly burst into tears and turned her face away. Harry and Ron looked at each other wondering what to do. Why do girls have to keep crying all the time over nothing, Harry thought. He cleared his throat faintly and edged himself along the wide tree trunk a little closer to her. Ron shook his head to dissuade him. Harry tentatively reached an arm out to Hermione's shoulder like he'd once seen done on television but he lost his nerve and let it drop.

"What's erm... wrong, Hermione?" he muttered.

She shook her head. She was sobbing heavily now and rubbing her eyes.

"Can't you... tell us?" whispered Harry, hoarsely. "Perhaps we can help."

"Hospital almoner..." she gasped, "said..."

"The what?" said Ron.

"Ssshh — I think it's a counsellor or something," whispered Harry.

"People hate me..." She sobbed and gasped for air. "Because... my bossy mouth... Said..." A flood of tears followed. Harry and Ron waited, not knowing what to say. Finally she let out one big sentence in a rush before succumbing to gasping and sobbing again, "She said that's why I never keep any friends."

"But..." Harry's voice was a faint whisper. "We are your friends, Hermione."

Hermione suddenly whirled around and flung herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around him with such force that if the tree had not been behind him he would have been bowled over onto his back. "Oh, Harry! I don't want to lose you!" A fresh round of sobbing made such a noise that Harry was looking around embarrassed to see who might be watching. Ron shook his head.

"You won't lose my friendship, Hermione — I promise." Tentatively, he tried patting her lightly on the back. Ron shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face. It seemed to Harry that Hermione had settled in for the weekend but he let her cry on his shoulder for a few more minutes until her chest slowed its heaving and her gasps and sobs had faded to deep breathing. He looked up at Ron for advice. After all, Ron had a sister, he ought to know what to do. Ron shrugged his shoulders again and stood up — not that he was going anywhere.

"So... erm... Friends forever then?" Harry said. It was all he could think of.

Hermione lifted her face from his neck. There was a rueful wet smile on her face and her eyes were bright with happiness. "Friends forever."

"And if sometimes you want to lecture me then go ahead; I'll listen. The least I can do for... a friend."

"Yeah, erm... Me too," said Ron, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

Hermione looked up with an embarrassed grin and nodded. She muttered something about having to clean up and ran off towards the castle.

"She's crying again," said Ron as he watched her go. "Why'd girls have to keep bloomin' crying? She's got friends for life and she's still not happy."

"Dunno, Ron," said Harry. He rubbed the back of his head where it had collided with the tree. "No idea. I didn't realise friendship could be so painful."

.

~~~ The Departure ~~~

Because it had been her plan, it was Hermione who approached the headmaster concerning Hagrid.

"And could you not mention where you heard about the dragon egg, please, Headmaster? Hagrid would be furious at me if he found out."

"Miss Granger, I'm sure I can find some excuse to visit our gamekeeper," smiled Dumbledore, "and I can hardly fail to notice it — especially if it has already hatched. I'm curious anyway, as to where he could have obtained such a rarity."

As the Hogwarts year entered its final weeks, there was one more bit of excitement. Harry was awakened about six o'clock by Fred shouting from the dormitory stairs, "Ron! No more DADA this year! Quirrell's done a bunk!"

"What?" said Ron, sleepily. "Why?"

Harry came gradually awake too.

"They reckon he smashed a mirror or something up on the third floor."

"So?" said Ron, still three-quarters asleep.

"The third floor — don't you get it? The forbidden third floor corridor!"

"So what?"

"I think there's more to it."

"What then?"

"Dunno. Maybe he died the painful death that Dumbledore warned us about last year and they're just making out he did a runner. I wonder what was up there?"

Harry rolled over and went back to sleep. It had seemed like a big fuss over nothing.

.

~~~ An Open Secret Admirer ~~~

At the end of the year, as the Hogwarts Express approached King's Cross station, Ron remained glum about Slytherin winning both the house cup and the Quidditch cup with Gryffindor losing all their matches but Harry was not concerned. Ron, with their separation looming, had invited Harry and Hermione to stay over part of the holidays and they were both delighted. Harry had not been looking forward to returning to the Dursleys - especially since they had abandoned him a year ago at this very station.

Hermione's self-confidence had taken a severe pounding during the preceding months. Having lost so much study time, her exam results were dreadful. But although she was less assertive yet still isolated from most of the other students, she was becoming less hesitant about her friendship with Harry and Ron. True, she still felt she was an outsider but her self-esteem had just been raised another notch by Ron's invitation.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped down from the train together.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"

Far along the train platform was a young girl and she was pointing at Harry.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mum! I can see-"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

"My mum and my sister that I told you about," grinned Ron ruefully as they approached. "I've owled them about you loads of times. Mum's replies said Ginny's rather taken with you."

Harry groaned and held back hiding slightly behind Hermione. He didn't want to cause a scene.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_HeartsGlow raised an interesting point about Harry still sleeping on the floor. In my fanon, after the sorting ceremony, the castle magically conjures and expands dormitories to meet the needs of each year, including one bed for each student. House-elves only service what already exists. The other occupants of Harry's dorm, Deane, Seamus, Neville, and Ron, wouldn't talk about Harry's peculiarities to others because they would see it as personal and they have no reason to hate Harry. McGonagall never goes up to the boys' dorms so she would never know. However, I do plan for Harry to get a bed one day; just not yet! ;)_

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct quotes from Philosopher's Stone (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Next chapter in this Years of Reluctance story begins Book 2. Can Harry keep out of trouble with Gilderoy Lockhart around? And what of little Ginny? Will her hero worship destroy Harry? Or save him from his inner demons? Don't fail to miss Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, coming very soon to a screen near you._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	6. Chamber of Secrets Part 01

.

_So far: Harry has completed his first school year and made friends with Ron and Hermione..._

.

**Chapter 6**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 1**

* * *

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~~~ Absent Friends ~~~

Harry Potter was feeling miserable. It wasn't because of the meagre slices of bread and cheese supper he was having to wolf down — he was used to rationing scraps and had even occasionally shared crumbs intended for the birds. No, it was solely because all summer he had received no messages from his friends Ron and Hermione — not even today on his twelfth birthday. This time last year he never would have believed he would ever miss anyone but now he had enjoyed the company of people who cared about him, their absence was an unmissable void. It seemed he had always been alone. But his aloneness did not hurt like this loneliness.

The doorbell rang.

"Right! CUPBOARD!" snapped Aunt Petunia. "And not a peep out of you for the rest of the evening!"

Harry did not sigh; it would have earned him only a glare if he was fortunate and he wasn't feeling lucky anyway. The Dursleys had a business associate coming to dinner and they wanted Harry out of the way so as not to spoil a possible new sale.

Harry eased open the cupboard under the stairs more carefully than usual; it was full nearly to bursting with his school baggage and he had trouble squeezing himself in. He climbed by his trunk then leaned back over to close the door on the world. There was just enough light creeping in at the top of the door for him to see where everything was. At least here he was free of the nagging of his relatives and had Hedwig, his owl, for company. The bird fluttered in her cage atop a large luggage bag, indicating that she was annoyed with him for not letting her out to fly for days.

"Sorry, Hedwig. They won't let me release you — but I'll find a way... somehow."

He had to keep his knees up as he lay down on the thin mattress on the floor but now he could sigh without being heard. A loud clicking noise outside signified he was being locked in. He pushed with his feet against the large bag that was preventing him stretching out fully.

"Ouch!" said a high, squeaky voice.

Harry quickly sat upright again, banging his head on an overhead strut that was already long-worn by such collisions.

"Who's there?"

The bag, with an astonished-looking Hedwig on top, seemed to ease itself slowly to one side. What was more startling was that someone, or something, was crouched down behind it.

.

~~~ Dobby ~~~

Harry blinked his eyes rapidly in disbelief. There was a small creature half-hidden behind his baggage. It had large, bat-like ears and huge bulging green eyes - and it was bowing to him.

Now if Harry had been a normal, non-magical person he would, no doubt, have run screaming straight through the locked door of his cupboard and been at the far end of Privet Drive before one could say a very short rude word — but he wasn't. Harry Potter was a wizard and used to unusual creatures, so he just said, "Er — hello," albeit a little nervously.

"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir... Such an honour it is..."

"Th-thanks," said Harry, "But who exactly are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Dobby. Thank you for seeing me privately like this. There would have been a terrible commotion if you had simply knocked on the front door — or worse, suddenly appeared in the middle of the kitchen."

The elf's eyes bulged even more. He seemed to find it difficult to digest what Harry had just said and needed to chew it over for a while before swallowing it. "Harry Potter is thanking Dobby... Harry Potter is most gracious."

Harry had a feeling he needed to nudge the elf out of his astonishment. "Erm... is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Dobby said fervently. "Dobby has come to tell Harry Potter... It is difficult, sir... Dobby wonders where to begin..."

"Would you like to sit down while you think about it?" said Harry politely, pointing at his mattress.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

"S-sit down!" wailed the elf. "Never... never ever... "

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an equal."

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on Harry's trunk, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't — why are you—?" Harry said in an urgent whisper. He put his hands under the elf's head to stop him hurting himself further and to reduce the noise but it was too late. The distant conversation in the sitting room came to a halt and he could hear footsteps approaching.

"Stop that racket, boy! Or you'll have no supper for a week!" hissed Uncle Vernon through the cupboard door. There was a pause, then the footsteps faded into the distance.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir..."

"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.

"Oh, no, sir, no... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir."

"Erm... then why did you come, exactly?"

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him... Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back. I hate it here."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" said Harry in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over.

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby struggled hard with himself, trying to keep his mouth shut.

"Okay — so you can't tell me. But I'll be in great danger if I go back?"

"Yes, Harry Potter ought not to risk his life by—"

"Of course not, Dobby. Of course I won't go back. I don't want to get involved in some major... upset. It's good of you to warn me."

"Harry Potter is wise. Dobby is happy to have been of use to one so great. May Dobby say, sir, that never has Dobby known a wizard so wise, so polite and so eager to be agreeable."

Harry was glad it was dark in the cupboard for he could feel his cheeks getting hot.

"Dobby will leave Harry Potter in peace now..."

Harry was about to say he'd be glad of his company for a while longer but the elf snapped its fingers and with a sharp pop disappeared. Harry banged his head on the beam again.

.

~~~ The Careless Vow ~~~

For the next few days — and particularly nights — Harry wondered how he was going to explain to the Dursleys he would not be returning to Hogwarts. It was past midnight and still he could not sleep. He rolled over onto his side and reached out to press gently on his cupboard door. It was locked of course. He released a quiet groan. Maybe, he thought, if he had stood up to them more then perhaps they would not have been so harsh on him. But then he reminded himself that the reverse had been the case in the past and it was hardly likely to change in the future.

He knew it was never wise to upset his uncle. He decided to leave it until as late as possible then say he had given up magic entirely. Yes, that would do it — they would think he had at last come to his senses. In a way, he thought, he had. There would be no trolls nor broomstick accidents at Stonewall High School and perhaps he might make new friends. Still... he thought, he would miss Ron and Hermione.

He dozed off, vowing, now that he had developed a taste for it, to encourage friendship with the next person he met who needed a companion, but trolls on broomsticks dive-bombed his dreams to drive away anyone who came near him.

A tiny sound rescued him from his nightmare. Was Dudley raiding the refrigerator again? Harry grimaced. He always got the blame. But the footsteps descending the stair overhead did not seem heavy enough to be his cousin.

"He's not in any of the bedrooms," a voice whispered from the hallway. "Are you sure this is the right address?"

There was silence while Harry froze and wondered if they were burglars.

"He said something about a..." The muffled voice sounded familiar.

For a few moments he heard nothing... then, sensitised to the tiniest changes in his confinement he felt the cupboard door ease towards him very slightly — as if someone were pressing upon it in the gloom.

"Can't be...!" It was the same voice but more breathless this time.

There was complete silence then for almost a minute until the soft clicking of the padlock startled him. When the door sprang open, a faint illumination from the street light through the frosted glass on the front door revealed a pale face. It was Fred Weasley, grinning and jiggling an ordinary Muggle hairpin in his hand.

"Harry?" Ron's face appeared — wide-eyed. "I thought you were joking when you mentioned a cupboard last year!"

"Ron? What's going on?" whispered Harry.

"Why didn't you answer my messages?" said Ron, crossly. "Sent you enough."

"I... I never got them."

"No time for chat," said a third voice and George showed his face. "We're busting you out of here!"

"Out? Where to?"

"Home with us, of course," beamed Ron. "You did remember we invited you, mate?"

As quietly as possible they moved Harry's luggage and Hedwig out through the front door to a waiting car parked at the side of the road. Only as they all drove away did they relax.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" yelled Ron. "For the other day of course!"

Harry had never received a birthday greeting before so he did not know quite how to respond. He was saved the bother because, just as Ron shouted, the car seemed to leap from the road and before Harry could find his voice again, the streetlights were falling away below them.

"It can fly?" was all he could croak.

"Hope so," quipped George as he spiralled the vehicle up around Little Whinging's village hall clock tower and soon left its spire far below. "It's a long way down if she can't!"

The red glow of early daylight was beginning to show in the sky to the east when finally they descended to land before a house so tall and crooked he almost expected it to be swaying. Harry thought it the most eccentric home he had ever seen.

"Welcome, Harry," said Fred and George together, "to The Burrow!"

.

~~~ A Difficult Breakfast ~~~

The vehicle had hardly touched down before Mrs Weasley was striding across the yard towards Weasley boys got a severe scolding for illegally flying the car but Harry was received as warmly as the sun rising above the hedge. _This will take some getting used to,_ he thought. He gazed around the yard which was now filling up with golden light. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around a long wooden table. A faint breeze carried the scent of summer and the haphazard jumble of boots near the door only made the place seem homely and comfortable. He could not think of anything so unlike the Dursleys' prim and proper garden than this — nor of anything more welcoming and full of promise. He smiled.

"Your dad could lose his job if anyone found out! Worse! It's breaking the law to enchant a Muggle artifact!" shrieked Mrs Weasley as she led them all indoors.

"But they were starving him, Mum!" said George.

"Locked in a cupboard!" added Fred, hoping to gain some sympathy for their rescue.

"I wish you wouldn't exaggerate, George!" sighed Mrs Weasley, but she did take a hard look at Harry before summoning some sausages and eggs from the pantry.

"Sit you down then, Harry. I suppose we can have an early breakfast."

"Oh, please don't go to any trouble, Mrs Weasley. I'll do that for you," cried Harry. From force of habit, he rushed over to the frying pan and began piercing the sausages with a fork. "Tea for everyone as well?"

He was met with astonished stares from everyone.

"What manners!" squawked Mrs Weasley, throwing up her arms in amazement. "Your aunt and uncle must be wonderful parents."

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen. She didn't notice Harry near the stove with her mother standing in front of him.

"Just cornflakes for me — it's a bit early," she yawned. The girl scraped out a chair from the table and sat down.

"Okay."

"This should be fun," said Fred, who had only just recovered from seeing Harry volunteer to make breakfast.

While she was still tiredly wondering whose voice had answered, Harry had sprinkled the cereal in a bowl and took it over with milk and sugar on a small tray.

"Say when." Harry began slowly pouring on the milk.

The young girl squealed and knocked over her chair as she leapt towards the door.

"Ginny!" cried Mrs Weasley. "And after Harry's had the goodness to make you breakfast!"

Ginny was out of the door but her hand still clutched the doorframe. A little pink, wide-eyed face peeped back.

"That's Ginny," Ron said in an undertone to Harry. "Remember you saw her at King's Cross? She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin.

Harry groaned silently as he remembered and slunk back to the cooker where the sausages were just beginning to sizzle.

"Ginny! Will you get back here and not waste this!" chided Mrs Weasley. "That's no way to make friends, now is it!"

Ginny came reluctantly back to the table, head bowed and averted away from Harry who, reminded by Mrs Weasley's words of his friendship vow of the night before, looked at her in shock at the recollection.

_Of course, it does not have to be the very next person you meet — that was just a figure of speech,_ he reassured himself. But then he wondered if you could have a figure of speech in a vow and what would be the consequences of breaking it. He glanced back at the table. Ginny was screwed up tightly over her bowl trying to hide behind her long hair. From what little of her face Harry could see, she looked as frightened as a mouse trapped by a cat. She wasn't a figure of speech; she was real.

He blurted some words out without stopping to think, "Why not take your b- breakfast outside, Ginny? It's lovely out there!"

Mrs Weasley took a deep breath but before she could say anything, Ginny, drawn by the prospect of escaping her embarrassment, and without a word, scooped up her breakfast and ran out the backdoor which she quickly closed behind her.

Fred winked. "You've done it now, alright, Harry."

George grinned with his twin. "Definitely set the Manticore amongst the barn owls."

Ron sniggered.

Harry turned back, crestfallen and began cracking eggs into the pan. He had only wanted to avoid bother for Ron's sister but somehow perhaps he had made things worse, he thought. His promise to himself the night before now seemed a curse. _What am I to do?_

As Harry made up a small mountain of bacon sandwiches on the table he looked around at all the eager faces. Who could he ask? Ron was hardly able to advise on friendship after driving Hermione away in tears last year at school with his cutting remarks.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked suddenly. "Weren't you going to—?"

"Me momm am owm," munched Ron. He swallowed mightily then repeated, "We got an owl — she's busy doing schoolwork but she'll try to come later for a few days. Schoolwork during the holidays! I ask you! Mental that one."

Harry scowled. Hermione had herself made a mess of making friends so it was unlikely she could help. A quick glance at Mrs Weasley convinced him he still didn't know her well enough to ask about friendship. Light was pouring in through the kitchen window and the top of Ginny's hair could be seen glowing red in the sunshine. His sandwich-chewing stopped. A feeling of guilt replaced it. But if he took his breakfast out to join her he would only distress her again. Perhaps she had schoolfriends who might come over.

"What school did you go to before Hogwarts, Ron?" he asked.

Now it was Ron's turn to stop chewing. "School? What school?"

"I mean, where'd you learn to read and write and do sums and things?"

Fred nearly dropped his sandwich.

"Harry, dear, " smiled Mrs Weasley with a puzzled look on her face, "Surely you know that only magic needs guidance? Baby things like walking and talking, reading, writing and numbers come naturally in time; even Muggles must know that."

Harry shook his head.

"Then how—?"

"The hard way," came a voice from the parlour door. "Muggles have to learn them bit by bit."

"Arthur!" cried Mrs Weasley. "I didn't hear you come in!" She dashed into the pantry to summon more sausages.

"What a night," Mr Weasley mumbled, groping for the teapot as he slumped down at the table beside them "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..." He glanced up. "Why's Ginny outside on her own?"

"Harry scared her away," grinned George, slyly.

"Harry?" said Mr. Weasley blankly. "Harry who?"

He looked around, saw Harry, and jumped.

"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about you."

"I'm sorry about Ginny, Mr Weasley. I didn't mean to—"

"Ah-ha!" said Mr Weasley. Harry had the impression that meant something but he did not know what.

"Then let's all eat outside!" declared Mr Weasley.

While everyone moved out to join Ginny, Harry tried to help Mrs Weasley with the extra sausages.

"Harry, dear," she said, taking him aside, "you're our guest. You don't have to do housework, here."

"I don't? But—"

"No buts, now. Off you go and finish your breakfast."

"Tea then!" he said, frantically, and grabbing the teapot off the table he ran to the backdoor which was now open. "Anyone ready for tea, yet?"

"Me!" said Fred.

Ron raised his hand but his mouth was too full to speak.

"Ginny's not had a cup yet," smirked George. Ginny was shaking her head vigorously.

Harry ran back inside, unsure how to spare Ginny more torment — not to mention, himself.

"It's very good of you, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, "but why don't you enjoy your holiday while I pour?"

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley!" cried Harry, glad of the reprieve. "Erm... may I use your bathroom, please?"

"Second on the left as you go up, dear," smiled Mrs Weasley.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_An important point was raised in the reviews about the lack of adventure in my Book 1 that is worth answering publicly. You cannot compare my five short chapters of 16,000 words with the whole of the original Philosopher's Stone which is 80,000 words. You might be surprised to realise that the first 16,000 words of the original take you through the Dursleys and to the introduction of Hagrid on the island. It doesn't even reach Diagon Alley and the shopping trip, let alone the Hogwarts Express or Hogwarts itself. So compare my five chapters with that and treat it as an intro to how Chary thinks and behaves. When I have finished the whole 7-book story I estimate it might be 200,000 to 250,000 words so a better comparison would be to compare that when it's finished with one of the larger original books._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	7. Chamber of Secrets Part 02

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_So far... Dobby, a house-elf, has warned there will be danger at Hogwarts so Harry has promised not to return for his second year despite missing his new friends: Ron and Hermione. Instead, he has vowed to become a friend of the very next person who needs one. But the Weasleys rescue him from the Dursleys and while staying at The Burrow he encounters young Ginny Weasley. Her painful shyness and Harry's vow of friendship are in conflict — not to mention his reluctance to be a nuisance to anyone, especially her. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 7**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 2**

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~~~ A Captivating Experience ~~~

Harry and Ginny mostly found ways to avoid each other for the next few days. By the end of the week she had volunteered to deal with the garden gnomes and Harry was no nearer solving the problem of her embarrassment in his company. Strangely, it was Fred and George who finally made things easier — but not before they made it worse, much worse. Ron had mysteriously developed a serious bout of hiccups which refused to stop so his mother took him swiftly off to see a healer in the nearby village. Harry could not help but notice Fred's and George's expressions — he felt sure they knew something about the matter.

"Broomsticks!" declared George. "It's a beautiful day, Fred! What say we give the ol' Nimbo a spin around the paddock?"

"You've got a Nimbus?" cried Harry in astonishment.

"Shhh!" said George, looking about the kitchen very furtively even though nobody else was in the house except Percy and he was shut up in his room most days. "We'd be in deep trouble if mum or dad found out! We might let you have a quick look though. She's real fast but tricky to manoeuvre without practice. We're not supposed to... Look, Harry, we can trust you can't we? Fact is, if we show you — perhaps even let you lift her off the ground for a few seconds, you'd take special care wouldn't you?"

Harry nodded his head vigorously. "Of course I would!"

His eyes had widened like saucers. Ever since he had learned to fly a broomstick he had longed to try a Nimbus 2000.

"And absolute secrecy is essential, agreed?"

"Definitely!"

"And you'll keep her out of sight? We don't want anyone to know."

"Yeah, whatever you say, George."

"Think you can set her up for him then, Fred?" George nodded at Fred.

"Certainly try, George." Fred slipped outside while George continued to chat to Harry about the virtues of Quidditch until Harry was practically drooling. When Fred signalled through the kitchen window then George led Harry out into the yard.

"This is the safest place, Harry," he said, indicating the shed. "In you go — Me and Fred will keep watch."

Stepping from the sunshine into the small, windowless shed, blinded Harry for a minute but he wasn't deaf. He could hear George locking him in and stifling a laugh. "Oi! What's going on!" Harry banged on the door. "Ssshhh! We have to take extreme measures, Harry. Be patient for a few more minutes."

Harry scowled. He was beginning to wonder if the twins really had a Nimbus 2000 at all but he didn't want to cause a fuss. He blinked and strained his eyes to see in the gloom. The only illumination was a slender beam of sunlight shining through a broken roof slate overhead. His eyes followed it down and he gasped. Ginny — motionless and shrunk so far back into the corner that she almost resembled a garden gnome herself — stood there gawping at him as if mesmerised. Her cheeks were so scarlet they might have been painted and her eyes were practically bulging out of her head. By her side was a long thin crate stood on end with its side splintered open.

"Erm... Sorry," said Harry. "Didn't know anyone was in here. Erm... George is er... fetching something."

Petrified by nervousness, Ginny's eyes rolled left and right, vainly looking for a hiding place she knew was not there. Harry relieved her of his stare by turning around to examine the door. "Magic!" He looked over his shoulder. "Know any spells to unlock doors?"

Ginny shook her head.

Harry turned back to the door and tapped it with his wand. "Open! ... Unlock! ... Let us out!"

"Allo Morah," came the faintest of whispers from behind him.

Harry looked at her again. "What's that?"

"I think Mum says, Allo Morah," she said timidly.

She has a nice voice, Harry thought, when she's not screaming and running away.

"Right." He tapped the door again. "Allo Morah."

"No, Mum just points at the lock," came the faint whisper.

"Ah yes — Allo Morah! ... Hello Morah! Hullo Mara!"

"I think it's—"

"I'm not very good at magic yet," said Harry. "Can you show me?"

"I've not got my wand."

Curiosity had drawn Ginny out a step but as Harry turned in surprise she recoiled as if shocked by her own temerity.

"Try mine then — it's quite friendly, I think." He took a step forward and held it out. Ginny felt obliged then to leave the imagined security of her corner. Her hand reached out and took the wand and they both paused cautiously for a few seconds. When nothing dreadful happened, Harry stepped aside and she pointed the wand at the door lock.

"Allo Morah! Er... Allo a morah — I think that's it. Allo am orah" The colour in her cheeks deepened even further and she wrinkled up her face, as if disappointed in herself. "Sorry..." Her head drooped. She handed him his wand and scuttled back to her corner.

"Never mind — that was a jolly good try anyway — better than my effort."

She stared down hard at her shoes and Harry had the strong impression she wished he was not there. He agreed with her on that. "Don't worry, George'll be here any minute..."

Her face flicked up only briefly before plummeting again but not before Harry noticed the surprised expression upon it. "He's not coming." She was back to timid whispering again.

"He's fetching the... I mean he's going to get a broomstick to show me," said Harry.

She looked up more slowly then and examined his face briefly to see if he was joking. She shook her head before dropping it again.

"You think he's not coming? He can't leave us in here forever!" Harry started banging on the door and shouting, "GEORGE! GEORGE! FRED!"

After a while he gave up. "Why'd he lock me in here then? It's not even funny."

He sank down to sit on the floor with his back to the door and tried to think up some conversation. "Couldn't you find a gnome?" He gazed around, noticing the contents of the shed for the first time. "Ah yes, Ron said your dad was interested in Muggle stuff." His eyes roamed over what looked like old toasters and lawn mowers and other bric-a-brac. "Don't see any gnomes though."

For the first time, Ginny gave a little giggle which she quickly stifled, glancing at Harry to see if he disapproved before speaking. "Gnomes don't come indoors."

Harry nodded. He wasn't really interested where they kept their garden ornaments but it was a start — she was talking a little bit. "So... what were you after?" His gaze fell on a shabby anglepoise lamp and his chuckle was dry as he attempted a little humour, "Not going to plant bulbs are you? Haha!"

Ginny stared at him. "Fred said they'd got a Nimbus in here..." She pointed at the empty crate.

Now it was Harry's turn to stare. He blinked frequently and rapidly during the following minute as he tried to find his voice again. "They KNEW you were in here?" Harry pulled himself to his feet. The beginnings of what might be anger were toying at the fringes of his jaw. "They locked you in? Their own sister?"

"They locked you in too."

"Yes, but you're their little sister!"

"I'm almost eleven!" she cried, and her eyes flashed a warning that took Harry by surprise.

"Yes, I didn't mean... You're not that little... That is, I thought..." He drew deeply on every excuse, every misdirection, every method he had ever used to endure under the collective heel of the Dursleys. "I thought you must be nearly thirteen that's why I wondered where your wand was!" He bit his lip. For some reason he wished he'd not lied to her but at the same time he was glad he had.

Ginny's mouth fell open and there was something like pleasure mixed with astonishment in her expression.

"I still think it's a rotten trick — locking a girl up, I mean," said Harry, his fury dissipated somewhat. He sank back down to the floor again. "So, you're not at Hogwarts yet then? Funny, I thought I saw a second-year like you last term but no, she wasn't as..." He stopped himself abruptly shocked at the lies that flowed so freely from habit. They had always seemed justifiable in Privet Drive; now they left a bad taste in his mouth.

"As what?"

"As erm... nice — her hair wasn't as nice, I mean." Now Harry was looking everywhere but at Ginny while her gaze was fixed upon him like a searchlight and her mouth was still gaping. He suddenly remembered his friendship vow. Surely he might never have a chance like this again!

"Listen, Ginny... I was wondering if..." But now he came to it, saying the actual word 'friend' seemed to be like pulling up a long knotweed root from the Dursleys' garden. "What I mean to say is..." _Nothing is worth this_, he thought to himself. His cupboard had been friendless but safe and he wished himself back there.

Ginny had a strange look in her eyes and if she wasn't really leaning forward with interest, at least it almost seemed like she wasn't so scrunched back into her corner.

"Oh, this is difficult. I've... not done this before, you see," said Harry.

"It's alright," said Ginny so faintly and meekly that Harry wasn't sure she had spoken at all.

"Only what I've been wanting to ask was... Would you be my..." Somehow, because he had made such a big fuss about it, his mouth could not quite say the word 'friend' at all. "Be my... well, you know..."

Ginny came out of her corner then and even without the lonely beam of sunlight her face was illumined. Harry realised with a rush that he had been wrong — it was worth it. It was worth all the stomach-squirming and worry in the world to see her happy. _So this is what friendship really is!_

"Yes, Harry, I will."

She stood now in the middle of the shed. How she had reached that point without walking, Harry did not know, but he had to say something and not flap about like a wet fish. "So... it'll be great. We can... do stuff... and erm... everyone can—"

"Oh, no! We mustn't tell anyone!," squeaked Ginny. She slapped her hand over her mouth as if embarrassed by her own voice. She continued in a lower tone, "Not mum and dad! They'll kill me! Not Ron! Definitely not Fred and George!"

Harry stared. "But... surely, they'll notice won't they?"

"No! They can't! We'll have to..."

"Oh you mean, if we just hang out with Ron and Hermione it'll look like you're with them?"

"Yes — it must be our secret!" she said, then added, "Please... Harry."

There was an imploring look in her eyes which Harry found irresistible. So somehow, instead of him saying "But why?" he found himself murmuring, "Of course — anything you say... Ginny."

Ginny beamed. She stood there, face turned up slightly to his, half-formed, unspoken words on her lips. Harry wondered if she was expecting him to do something but he couldn't think what else to say.

There was a sharp click from the door and it swung open.

"So, what'd you think of her, Harry?" It was George and Fred grinning like fools. "Difficult to handle to begin with but a surprising turn of speed once she gets going, hasn't she?"

Ginny squealed and ran out past Harry, quickly disappearing inside the house.

"What was that all about?" murmured Harry.

"You tell us, Harry," said George with a wink at Fred. "You tell us."

.

~~~ The Forgotten Promise ~~~

Ginny's birthday came and went. Harry apologised that he hadn't known and promised he would buy her a gift when next he could, and he meant it. Ginny relaxed slightly in his presence and he took every opportunity to chat with her (albeit a little self-consciously) and involve her with his and Ron's activities. Harry was baffled that Ginny might suppose how anyone could fail to notice that they were now all friends.

From then on at the Burrow, he would often find her looking at him with a little smile on her face whenever he turned around. Then he would give a return smile as if confirming their secret like a pact. It was the strangest friendship Harry had ever known — but then he had not known many. He did notice, however, that she came closer when nobody else was around. It was nice, he admitted to himself. Her friendship was somehow different to Ron and Hermione's — perhaps it was because mostly he was aware of her just being there and not wanting anything of him except his company.

Hermione's owl arrived the same day as letters from Hogwarts informing them of the new books they would need and it was agreed they would all meet in Diagon Alley to purchase them. Ginny spent a lot of time explaining to Harry how to use the Floo network while Harry passed many a minute in her absence, asking other members of the family to suggest what he might buy her as a belated birthday present.

"You'll see something in Diagon Alley, I've no doubt," smiled Mrs Weasley in the kitchen. She let loose a rolling pin and it eagerly trundled away across the tabletop towards a great mound of pastry which it happily climbed and began wheeling back and forth to flatten the lump. A couple of little pastry cutters tip-tapped anxiously about, waiting their turn.

He considered getting her a diary but he didn't know if she already had one. He'd hate her to just thank him politely then put his present quietly away and not tell him. Even worse, he suddenly thought. What if she preferred his and threw the other gift away! He sighed and looked at Ginny's mother. "But what? I don't know what to get her."

"Whatever you like, Harry! " Mrs Weasley leaned over a bowl of thick golden syrup, gave a nod of approval, and the wooden spoon which had been stirring the mixture rested its handle wearily upon the rim. "Something special will appeal to you — and then stay with that whatever anyone else suggests. It's the thought that counts."

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," said Harry, feeling surprisingly relieved. Once he saw all the wonderful, magical things for sale in Diagon Alley, he was bound to pick out something and he needn't worry about it right now. Ginny's mum seemed really sensible. "Here, let me help you with the baking trays."

"Now, now — you're not a house-elf, Harry. You're our guest, and on holiday to boot. You do enough studying all year — you deserve a rest and having fun with all your friends."

Harry did not answer. The rug, the floor, the whole world seemed to have been suddenly ripped out from under him and he was sinking down into the dark place where once they were.

"Harry?"

"Er... yes, okay, Mrs Weasley. Thank you," he said weakly.

"Here, sit down at the table and I'll make you a nice cup of tea — you've probably been overdoing the gardening with Ron and Ginny again — you do look a bit peaky all of a sudden."

Harry did sit down but he wasn't hearing what Mrs Weasley was saying _now_. All he could hear was the echo of what she had said before: _house-elf!_ His own voice also kept repeating in his head a promise of something he had utterly forgotten since arriving at The Burrow: _Of course not, Dobby. Of course I won't go back to Hogwarts._

Harry lay awake that night, listening to Ron breathing heavily as he slept, and fighting within himself to consolidate two opposing promises: how could he do as Dobby asked yet remain a friend to Ginny when she started at Hogwarts in September? Nor could he put off the decision until then. Tomorrow he was expected to be buying books for the coming school year.

He rolled over in the camp bed the Weasleys had set up for him in Ron's room and wondered if Ginny was awake and what she would think of him when instead of flooing (as she had so carefully instructed him) to arrive in Diagon Alley, he sent himself to—

"To where?" he said aloud, sitting bolt upright. It had abruptly occurred to him that he had no transport nor any place to go. And how could he possibly call the Dursleys?

"Eh? Wassup?" murmured Ron sleepily.

"Nothing... sorry... bad dream," whispered Harry — but Ron was already softly snoring.

By the middle of the night he was so sleepy he had convinced himself that two opposing vows cancelled each other out and he could choose whichever he wished. In any case, who was Dobby? And why should he trust him? And then, of course, there would be much more fuss if he did not go than if he did. It always made good sense to him to avoid trouble rather than seek it out. With that, he drifted off into a sleep that was only partly troubled by guilty dreams.

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—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Yes, I really did have a wicked, evil temptation to let Harry give Ginny a diary then she throws Riddle's diary in the trash! The End. Haha! But I resisted._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	8. Chamber of Secrets Part 03

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_So far... Thanks to Fred and George locking them in the garden shed, Harry has fulfilled his vow and he and Ginny are friends, although Ginny wishes their relationship to be kept secret. But because this vow conflicted with his promise to Dobby to not return to Hogwarts for his second year, he has chosen to return anyway. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 8**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 3**

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~~~ The Birthday Gift ~~~

When they all met up with Hermione and her parents outside the goblin bank the next morning, Harry made efforts to bring Ginny into their conversations. He need not have worried; she and Hermione got along very well. Harry rubbed the back of his head with a finger in puzzlement because Ginny didn't seem very shy at all with her. But, once Ron was also chatting with his sister, at least Harry was satisfied that nobody was noticing his own particular friendship with Ginny.

As the Gringotts cart hurtled noisily down the rails to the vaults below, Harry began to wonder why on earth Ginny wanted her relationship with him to be a secret. Was she ashamed of him? No, she had said her mum and dad would kill her! Were they ashamed of him? It made no sense; he was already friends with their son and they didn't seem to mind. Anyway, he thought, if the four of them were, as he hoped, to be together, wouldn't everyone assume they were all friends? Ah! It must be because he was famous! They wanted only normal friends for her daughter. That must be it. They didn't realise he was nobody special — less than ordinary actually. How could he—?

"HARRY! You're very quiet!" cried Hermione above the din of the racing rail carriage. Her voice was tense and her face pale but Harry was sure her concern was not for him; she was looking for a distraction from what was, to her, a terrifying journey.

"Oh, I'm er..."

Ginny, hair streaming behind her in the airflow, and Ron, appearing nonchalant but with white knuckles gripping the safety rail, waited for him to continue while they swerved around a particularly vicious bend.

"Birthday present," Harry blurted out once their stomachs had sprung back where they belonged. "I forgot Ginny's — well, I didn't know — and I've been trying to think what to get you, Ginny."

"Oh! I didn't expect you to— I mean, it's the thought that counts... Harry." Her voice was so hoarse with surprise and embarrassment, he could scarcely hear it for the deep roaring rumble of their shaky conveyance.

"That's what your mum said too." He looked back at the swaying cart behind them. Ginny's mother was tending to Mrs Granger who looked as if she was going to be sick. With a sympathetic smile, Mrs Weasley patted her on the back then flicked her wand a couple of times.

After visiting Gringotts, Harry felt rather uncomfortable. The Weasley vault had looked almost empty compared to his own.

"Don't know how mum's going to afford these new books," muttered Ron while they were all separating on the marble steps. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to visit a secondhand robe shop. Mrs Granger's nausea had vanished with a good-riddance into not-being and Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking her and her husband to the Leaky Cauldron for a refreshing drink. Fred and George were going off with a friend they had met.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry's pocket was clamouring to be spent.

"Ginny told me she's thrilled to be getting her first wand and starting at Hogwarts," said Hermione. "I remember I was so excited when I got mine!"

"Yeah, but yours was new at least," said Ron.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Mine is Charlie's old wand," he said glumly. "Mum will probably pick up a second hand one for Ginny from the junk shop."

Harry stopped in his tracks and the other two halted with him looking perplexed. "But that's not right! Mr Ollivander told me last year that the wand chooses the wizard."

"Yes," said Ron, "but new wands cost Galleons to buy, Harry — Harry? Where are you going?" Harry was running off after Mrs Weasley and Ginny.

"I'll catch you up later at the bookshop!" Harry called back. He disappeared amongst the throng of people in the alley.

"Where in the name of Merlin's baggiest is he off to?" said Ron.

"I'd have thought it was self-evident," smirked Hermione. "Harry couldn't think what to get Ginny for her birthday but now he's reminded she needs a wand."

"You mean he's buying her a new wand!"

Hermione nodded. "Come on, let's go to Fortescue's for an ice cream Choco-shocker; it's only about once a year after all."

.

~~~ Swish and Fall ~~~

Harry peeped through the pebble glass frontage of the secondhand robe shop. Between racks of cloaks he could just see Ginny's tiny figure trying on a standard school robe but it looked rather shabby, he thought. He squinted. Was that a patch near the hem?

He stepped back feeling even more uncomfortable than he had in the bank when he had opened his vault to reveal piles and piles of Galleons to the Weasleys who were pretending not to look. He decided Ginny would curl up with embarrassment if she saw him here so he made off towards the junk shop. He stood there waiting for a few minutes but now he was troubled. What if self-respect made Mrs Weasley refuse to let him buy Ginny's wand? If only he had a gift voucher — nobody could refuse a gift voucher and she might not realise the price then.

Harry sprinted along to the wand shop where he found Mr Ollivander was only just unlocking the door.

"Ah, come in, come in, Mr Potter. Good to see you again."

"Mr Ollivander, I wondered... Is there some way I can pay for a wand that's erm... not been bought yet? What I wanted was... Well, it's a kind of gift, really. Only..."

Mr Ollivander scratched his head. "I suppose I could write you out a promissory note, but wand prices do vary slightly depending on the work needed and the core."

"Could it be made to not show the price?"

"Well, yes... It could promise the bearer one wand but—"

"I would pay you the difference of course, if the wand cost more than the note."

Ollivander smiled. "That won't be necessary, Mr Potter. A little risk always makes a day more exciting don't you think?"

Harry almost shuddered and tried hard not to shake his head.

Mr Ollivander continued, "I'll charge you an average price. If the actual wand costs less; I profit; if it costs more; I lose. How would that be?"

Harry smiled. "I don't mind that sort of risk, at all."

He raced back to the junk shop and had barely got his breath back before he saw the top of Mrs Weasley's head working its way through the crowds towards him.

"Harry!" she cried, "What are you doing here?"

Ginny looked surprised to see him there too.

""Happy birthday, Ginny," said Harry. He stepped forward and pressed the note into her hand.

Ginny squealed when she read what was written there. "A new wand, Mum! Harry's got me a new one!"

Mrs Weasley snatched the note from her hand and read it swiftly. "Oh, Harry, we couldn't possibly accept this. New wands are so expensive."

Ginny looked crestfallen.

"But Mrs Weasley! You said 'Whatever you like, Harry!' You said 'Stay with that whatever anyone else suggests!' Anyway, Mr Ollivander warned me it couldn't be refunded." He rubbed his eyebrow to hide the wink directed at Ginny. Her face brightened up with hope.

"Oh, I didn't mean you could go and buy a palace with a coach and four outside now did I?" She stared at the note as if trying to determine its cost.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley," said Harry, aghast at Mrs Weasley's expression. "I didn't want to be a nuisance. I can give that away and I'll get Ginny something else." Harry had not survived ten years without learning a lot of devious strategies to help him do so.

Mrs Weasley fumed inwardly but had to yield. She handed the note back to Ginny and they made their way to the wand shop.

"Ah! Mrs Weasley! Delighted to see you once more and who is this young lady?"

"This is Ginevra, my youngest. She—"

"Never! I never would have believed it! Already fully grown up and ready to try out her first wand!"

Harry saw Ginny's smile that was so broad he thought the note was worth any risk even if the wand was only worth a sickle.

"Very well," continued Ollivander. "If you would be so good as to hold out your wand arm, Lady Ginevra, we'll get you measured up."

While his inch-ribbon appeared to take Ginny's height and arm length, the old wandmaker busied himself searching his shelves. When the tape finally dropped to the floor and snaked back around the corner, Ollivander had taken several boxes down. Harry noticed he didn't look at the measurement.

"Now, let me see... which of these four do you think might choose you?" He laid the wands along his high counter top. Little Ginny had to stand on a stool to scrutinise them.

"That one looks very nice," she said, reaching down cautiously.

"Does it?"

There was something in his tone that made her hesitate and look at the others again. Immediately her eyes lit up as they fell upon a slender, sweetly-shaped baton that practically jumped into her hand.

"This one!" With an excited flourish, the shop crackled with magic and she toppled backwards off the stool onto Harry's quickly-outstretched arms.

"Excellent!" cried Mr Ollivander. "Hazel of course with the first hair shed by a unicorn foal born in the moonlight following an equinoctial ecliptic shadow — what a wondrous night that was! Nice and reactive, nine inches." He looked knowingly with unblinking, silvery eyes at Ginny. "I can assure you, Miss Weasley, that you now have a very close friend for life."

He glanced briefly at Harry and Harry wondered if he somehow had read their secret. Mrs Weasley seemed oblivious to it though and beamed to see her daughter's rapturous delight in her new wand. "What do you say, Ginny?"

"Thank you, Harry; it's lovely," she said softly but she was too flustered to look him in the eye more than with a few swift glances — though Harry could feel those shy peeks repeatedly as they walked back to rejoin the others at Flourish and Blotts. It used to bother him when Dudley kept looking at him but now, with Ginny's eyes upon him, he felt only a pleasantly warm radiance inside. Resting in the security of that glow was like being in his cupboard again only far more interesting than cobwebs, he thought.

.

~~~ Surprise Attack ~~~

There was an unusual commotion inside the busy shop. The author of their new schoolbooks, Gilderoy Lockhart, was within, signing autographs and announcing that he was to be the new defence teacher at Hogwarts.

Harry, took little notice of what was going on around him in the bookshop until Lockhart hustled him before the press photographer to enhance his own publicity within the limelight of 'The Boy Who Lived,' as Harry was often referred to by those who didn't really know him. Harry groaned inwardly. He could see Mrs Weasley looking their way with her eyes almost popping out. Now she would never want Harry to openly befriend her daughter, he felt sure.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own— "

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognising. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.

"Famous Harry Potter," spat Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that attention!" said Ginny. She was glaring at Malfoy.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet but as Ron and Hermione fought their way over through the busy shop, Draco was already flat on the floor rubbing a nosebleed and wailing like an infant.

"You punched him!" cried Ginny, with astonishment.

"He insulted you... I just didn't think..." Harry could not understand it. His cousin scarcely flinched when he hit him — though admittedly, Dudley was twice the size of Draco.

Ron laughed to see Draco sprawled on the floor with a bloody nose but Harry was aghast. He ran out of the shop to try to avoid more trouble. A wizard with pale blond hair and cold grey eyes pushed past him angrily as he went in. "Out of my way, boy!"

Harry ran his hand through his hair and found his knuckles were really sore where he had hit Draco's bony jaw. He wanted to walk away forever but he was stranded here, reliant on the Weasleys who had all his luggage in their home. And Ginny must think him a real crybaby for running away. The sound of a new commotion broke out inside but before Harry could squint through the thick pebbly glass window, a huge figure approached along the alley. He glanced first at Harry then into the shop.

"Hagrid!"

"Yeh stay 'ere, Harry! Keep yerself out o' sight."

Harry's eyes followed Hagrid into the store where another fight had broken out between Mr Weasley and the blond wizard. Harry didn't wait to see what would happen when Hagrid reached them. He looked left and right. There was a shallow recess to one side spilling out from which were rubbish bins stacked high with discarded papers and damaged books. Harry dived on top and shrunk back as far as he could.

Two figures burst from the bookshop amidst the noise and shouts from within.

"I cannot believe that scrawny, meddlesome boy floored you, Draco. You will keep this quiet, understand? And let me deal with that filthy mudblood and all her blood-treacherous friends. It's all set."

"But—!"

"Understand?"

"Yes, Father."

Harry froze as they passed by but they did not see him. With Draco was the blond wizard that Harry had seen minutes before. Harry just managed to scramble out of his niche and straighten his clothing before Ginny rushed out of the bookshop with Ron and Hermione immediately behind. He winced as he tried to hide his sore hand behind his back.

"That was totally wicked, Harry! Did you see his face? Where did you learn to punch like that!"

"Oh erm... Dudley taught me."

"Are you alright, Harry?" said Hermione. "Let me see..."

She lifted up his arm to examine his skinned knuckles which were beginning to swell a little.

"Oh, that — that's nothing," laughed Harry with feigned nonchalance, pulling his hand away quickly and stuffing it into his pocket despite the stinging pain. Through watering eyes, he had a glimpse of the concern and admiration in Ginny's eyes before she looked away, pink-cheeked. It had all been worth it for that one moment.

He had not realised that friendship could be so satisfying — no, not even last year with Ron and eventually Hermione. If he had, he told himself, he would have tried harder to make friends at Muggle school — despite Dudley driving everyone away from him. He would definitely now try harder than ever to include Ginny into their company when they all went to Hogwarts together in September.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I think wandmakers have a special magical affinity with their tape measure. I don't think they measure physical arm length at all but are evaluating the magical aura of the customer and conveying it to the wandmaker to influence his choices._

_No unicorn foals were harmed in the making of Ginny's wand, I promise._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	9. Chamber of Secrets Part 04

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_So far... Harry has impressed his friends by impulsively punching Draco in the bookshop but will it bring him trouble in the future? To maintain his friendship with Ginny he intends to return to Hogwarts for his second year despite his promise to Dobby who had warned him there will be danger at the school. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 9**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 4**

* * *

.

~~~ Stranded ~~~

On the day they all drove to King's Cross Station they were running very late. The car had to stop for George to run back for his fireworks, Ginny forgot her diary, and Fred his broomstick. They were in the same vehicle that had been used to fly Harry from the Dursleys during the holidays but Mrs Weasley was adamant that they would not break the law by flying it again so they had to drive slowly through heavy traffic. By the time they reached the station, temperatures were running high despite the day being cool and grey.

Mr and Mrs Weasley were very anxious that their children were not late for the train but Harry was really keen to see where platform nine and three-quarters was.

"But this is the place I came to last year," he said to Ron as they stood between platform nine and ten. "There is no nine and three-quarters."

Fred grinned. "Just watch, Harry."

"Percy first," said Mrs. Weasley, looking nervously at the clock overhead, which showed they had only five minutes before the train departed.

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished into the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry rubbed his eyes in disbelief. He had been that close all along last year.

"I nearly starved!" he moaned to Ron, for the sake of a few steps I didn't know about."

Mr. Weasley went next; Fred and George lined up their trolleys ready to dash through after him.

"I'll take Ginny and you two come right after us," Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron, reaching for Ginny's hand.

"No, Mum — I want to go with Ron and Harry. You didn't hold Ron's hand last year!" she pouted.

Mrs Weasley glared at her but a train whistle blowing on platform eight made Molly scurry on after Fred and George who were just disappearing through the barrier.

"Let's all go together, we've only got a minute," Ron said to Harry and Ginny.

They all bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and—

CRASH.

Their trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Ginny barely avoided running over him. A guard nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

"Lost control of the trolley," Harry gasped, clutching his ribs as he got up. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig, who was causing such a scene that there was a lot of muttering about cruelty to animals from the surrounding crowd. Ginny was looking very upset as she realigned bags on her trolley.

"Why can't we get through?" Harry hissed to Ron.

"Idunno— "

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," Ginny whimpered tearfully.

Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds... nine seconds...

He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The barrier remained solid.

Three seconds... two seconds... one second...

"It's gone," said Ron, sounding stunned. "The train's left. What if Mum and Dad can't get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?"

Ginny was crying. Harry wondered how he might comfort her without her brother realising they were friends. Ron shouted at her to keep quiet because Muggles were looking at them which just made her weep all the more. Harry did then put his arm around her but he rolled his eyes and smiled wryly at Ron as if it was an onerous chore to console a silly little girl who wasn't really a friend.

"I've ... wanted ... go ... Hogwarts ..." gasped and sobbed Ginny, "since ..."

""It'll be alright, Ginny," said Harry gently and more reassuringly than he actually felt. "We'll find another way."

"But where, Harry? Where?" said Ron.

"Let's just get out of here for a start and sit in the car!" cried Harry. "You can't imagine how depressing it is to stay in King's Cross hour after hour."

They went off together through the crowd of curious Muggles, out of the station and back onto the side road where their old Ford Anglia was parked.

Ron unlocked the cavernous boot with a series of taps from his wand. Ron and Harry heaved their luggage back in, put Hedwig on the back seat with Ginny whose eyes had dried up a little by now, and Harry got into the front with Ron.

"Now," said Harry, "let's think what to do..."

Ron started the ignition with another tap of his wand.

"Ron! What are you doing!" yelled Harry in alarm. "We can't drive all the way to Hogwarts! We don't even know the way!"

"If we can spot the Hogwarts Express from the air then we need only follow it," said Ron, checking his rear-view mirror.

"But Ron! We'll be in serious trouble! You heard what your mum said!" cried Harry. "Your dad could lose his job! We'd all be expelled for sure."

Ginny began crying again.

"What then?"

Harry wrinkled up his face while he tried to think. "When I was here last year..." His eyes suddenly lit up and he whirled around to lean over to speak to Hedwig. "Hedwig! Remember last year when you went and fetched Hagrid? Well, could you do the same again?"

"Write a message, Harry," whispered Ginny. "Say we're very sorry but—"

"It's not our fault!" yelled Ron. "Bloomin' school — it's their fault for making the stupid platform go wrong!"

"The school! Ron, you're right! Transport is the school's responsibility!" Harry turned to Ginny. "Ginny, could you write a message to Professor McGonagall saying—"

"Harry, have you gone mental!" yelled Ron. "McGonagall will transfigure us into Flobberworms and feed us to vultures!"

"If we don't we'll all be in worse trouble," said Harry. Ron wondered what could be worse than being eaten by vultures without even arms to fight them off.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "As you said, it's not our fault, it's Hogwarts' if anyone's and McGonagall speaks for Hogwarts. She says we have to use the Hogwarts Express so she should make sure we can get on the train, right?"

He watched as Ginny found her quill and some parchment in her carry bag. Ron was still shaking his head and thinking about Flobberworms.

Harry thought for a minute then cleared his throat as if about to make an important speech, "Say, '_Dear Professor McGonagall, comma,_' Mmm... '_Next line. We are stranded at King's Cross Station, stop._'

"I'll put '_just outside King's Cross_' shall I?" said Ginny without looking up from her work. She had her tongue sticking out between her teeth to help her concentrate as she scrawled ferociously with her quill.

"Yeah, good thinking. '_just outside King's Cross stop. Could not get past barrier onto platform, stop. Please help, stop. Next line. Harry Potter comma, Ron Weasley comma, Ginny Weasley._' How's that sound? Put the names nice and neat so she's knows who it is then we'll all sign it."

"I think she'll know who it is, Harry," grinned Ron but Ginny ignored him and continued scratching away with her quill.

After they'd all added their signatures, she carefully attached the parchment to Hedwig's leg.

Harry gave Hedwig a couple of owl treats to sustain her then said, "It's urgent, Hedwig. I know you won't let me down."

The bird nipped gently at his finger tips then they watched her fly away until she was just a speck in the grey sky.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"Now, we wait," said Harry. "All day probably."

"You're joking, Harry. She's a magical owl — and you did tell her it was urgent."

After a few minutes Harry heard Ginny sniffling again behind him. "What's up, Ginny? We'll get there sooner or later."

"I'll miss the sorting," she wailed. "I won't be in any house. I'll be on my own,"

"No you won't. I missed the sorting last year but they gave me a private one."

"Truly?" said Ginny, blinking away her tears.

"Absolutely. I didn't even know what a house was. The hat wasn't sure where to put me. It nearly put me in Slytherin! But I ended up in the best house anyway — 'course I didn't know then it was the best," he added. "Didn't know anything actually, nor any people there at all." He spun around more to face Ginny. "At least you'll have Ron, me, and Hermione as friends to— I mean, you'll have Ron and Hermione. I mean... erm... I'll help you as well, of course." Harry was becoming more and more confused about Ginny's wish that their friendship be kept secret.

"Hope I get in Gryffindor," said Ginny.

"You will," said Ron. "You're a Weasley."

"Yes, but just say..."

Harry suddenly felt very chill. It had never occurred to him that Ginny might be consigned to another house. She would be in a different year too so he wouldn't see her in classes anyway. But if she ended up in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw he wouldn't even see her in the Gryffindor common room. Slytherin wasn't worth considering. It would be impossible for her to be sorted into _that_ house — wouldn't it? He might never see her — well, hardly at all. An inexplicable feeling, almost like panic, set in. He hadn't realised that friendship would feel so important.

"You must talk to the hat," he said, so agitated now that the car swayed and creaked on its springs slightly as he squirmed in his seat. "Be firm with it. Tell it that nothing less than Gryffindor will do."

"I never did," said Ron. "I think Weasleys are different. I think it just puts us straight into Gryffindor. Tradition isn't it, really?"

"Promise me, Ginny!" said Harry.

"What!" said Ron.

"I mean... You will remember won't you, Ginny? To tell the hat? To insist?"

Ginny's eyes were wide and shining. "I promise."

They discussed Ginny's possible house heatedly for half an hour until interrupted by someone tapping their umbrella on Harry's side window; it was Professor McGonagall.

"Potter! Do you intend to ever turn up on time?" she said sternly, then, glancing at Ginny cowering on the back seat, "And setting such a bad example."

"But the barrier was closed, Professor!" protested Harry and Ron together.

"I should tell you that the magical gateway to platform nine and three-quarters has never been known to fail. However, whatever has held you up, you did the right thing in contacting me so rapidly." Something like a smile of approval crossed her face briefly. "Come along then. Follow me."

"But, our luggage — and my dad's car."

"Bring your hand luggage only, I'll take care of the rest. And I've sent an owl to your parents' home. It seems they thought they had missed you getting onto the train somehow."

"But—" began Ron.

"Which way, Professor?" said Harry quickly, seeking to avoid confrontation.

"If you will each take hold of my umbrella, you'll be there in a jiffy."

"Your umbrella?" said Harry.

"Or we could stand around and discuss it in which case it will take you much longer!" She glared at Harry who quickly joined Ron and Ginny already holding on to the brolly. McGonagall released her hold.

.

~~~ The Horseless Carriages ~~~

Instantly, Harry felt as though he was chasing his stomach irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Ginny swaying and jostling on either side of him within a shrieking wind and swirling color; he couldn't let go even if he had wanted. Then, as suddenly as the effect had begun, his feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and fell over; Ginny was clinging to Harry's arm to stop herself falling over her brother; and how Harry managed to stay upright he did not know. McGonagall's umbrella hit soft ground and telescoped down repeatedly until there was nothing left.

"Where are we?" said Ron, looking around as he clambered to his feet.

"Dunno," said Harry. The sky was grey overheard and it was trying to rain; there were already spits and spots. Underfoot was a muddy path indicating an earlier downpour and Ron was wiping his hands on his jeans.

"What was that cleaning spell that Hermione used once?" he grumbled.

Harry shook his head. "McGonagall must have gone on ahead, I suppose."

Ginny was still clinging to his arm. "There's something further along." She took her hand off Harry's arm to point but did not put it back after. He wondered why that bothered him. She picked up Hedwig's empty cage which Harry had dropped and looked at Harry and her brother to see what they were going to do.

"Stagecoaches!" said Ron.

They found dozens of them once they walked along a bit, all empty and with no horses to pull them.

"What do you think we should do?" said Harry.

"Do you reckon these are for all the other kids when they get here?" said Ron. "Instead of the boats?"

Ginny was looking inside the nearest one. "It's a bit smelly."

"I think we'd better walk," said Harry. "We don't want to get into more trouble"

"Right. Which way though, Harry?" said Ron.

The track sloped upwards in one direction. "I don't think we'd walk downwards to Hogwarts so let's go up this way."

As they walked along by the column of carriages, the rain got heavier.

"Pity we still haven't got McGonagall's umbrella, really," said Ron.

"My hair's going to be ruined," wailed Ginny.

"Can't be helped," said Ron, lengthening his stride.

"Can't we just sit in one till it stops, Ron?" said Ginny, tugging at the handle of the one they were passing.

The other two did not need much persuading and they all dived inside and closed the door. Ginny took out a hankie and began mopping her face.

"Hang on! We're moving!" cried Harry. He leaned his head out of the window but couldn't see what was pushing or pulling them along.

They stared at each other. Eventually, Ron shrugged, fished a Daily Prophet with the latest Quidditch results out of his bag, then settled down in his seat. Ginny took out a hairbrush and a hand mirror then began softly tidying and drying the strands of her hair. Harry watched entranced. He had never seen anyone brushing hair such as this. It swept and draped over her fingers like fiery silk in the gloom.

As the carriage trundled onward there came into view a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars. Not far beyond the gates, Ginny squealed and pointed out of the window with her brush. "There it is! There's Hogwarts just like I imagined it!"

Harry stared over her shoulder. The turrets and fluttering banners looked grand and the great stone-slabbed walls loomed taller and taller as they approached. He could not help but feel a sense of pride that he belonged here.

He glanced over at Ron who was looking out of the adjacent window with the same look of pleasure he, himself felt. As Harry turned back to the view, he sensed Ron returning his glance.

"You daft prat, Harry Potter!" Ron grinned.

"Prat yourself with knobs on," Harry sniggered in return.

Ron screwed up several pages from his Prophet and threw them at Harry which Harry returned in good measure. "Triple prat with triple knobs, bells, and whistles on toast!"

Ginny giggled but kept her eyes excitedly on the view outside.

The carriage gained speed up the long, sloping drive to the castle entrance. The rain was left behind and a spike of sunlight pierced its way through the clouds to illuminate the scene. Ginny was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many parapets and towers draw nearer, her hair streaming out like amber flames caught in the new light. At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and they scrambled out.

Harry felt a sense of welcome as they hurried up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, and into the cavernous Entrance Hall lit with flickering torches. Ginny looked entranced by the magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors. Coming down the steps was Professor McGonagall.

.

~~~ Grime and Punishment ~~~

"The new Gryffindor password is Wattlebird." She looked severely at Ginny who shrunk a little away from her. "Miss Weasley may accompany you for today only until she is sorted at this evening's Welcoming Feast. Meanwhile, lunch will be in the Great Hall as usual — though you will be the only students — and Potter, let us hope next year that you will be neither too early nor too late but on time for once!" She took a deep breath and Harry tried to look appropriately sheepish at this point which he had found was a useful expression on the cusp of possible punishment. But McGonagall deducted no house points, instead she turned to Ron. "Mr Weasley, you will attend my office in twenty minutes." She gave them all a swift once over then swept away back upstairs, her long robes billowing behind her.

Ron stared aghast as she disappeared through an upper doorway. "Why me? Why single me out!"

Harry shrugged. "Come on, let's check our luggage arrived okay and get unpacked."

He led the way up to their common room, pointed Ginny to the girls' stairs then followed Ron to theirs.

"Seems funny to see Hogwarts so empty," said Ron, as he counted socks and removed Scabbers, his pet rat, from one of them.

Harry was looking out of the window on Neville's side at the wide open spaces and the grassy lawns stretching down to the lake. It would be wonderful to fly a broomstick again, he thought. He lapsed into a daydream where he flew for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, soaring—

"Ginny? Wassup?" said Ron. "No, don't tell me — no luggage, right? Yours'll come up later when you get sorted in. Anyway, at least you've got your Hogwarts uniform — you'll get your scarlet and gold after you're sorted."

Harry turned around. Ginny was nodding and smoothing down her school robes self-consciously. "Hope Luna's in Gryffindor, too."

"Who?" said Harry, walking back to his own corner.

"Luna Lovegood. She lives near me. We play sometimes when we can — Oh! Isn't that your bed?" — she pointed at Neville's — "Where's your bed, Harry?"

Ron chortled. "Harry likes sleeping on the floor."

"Do not!"

"Then why not say something to somebody, you silly git!"

"Not worth the fuss and bother," muttered Harry, a bit embarrassed now that Ginny saw he hadn't even earned the right to a proper bed. He hadn't been concerned about it the previous year.

Ron roared with laughter and clutched his sides. "I s'pose it's a step up from ..." — he could hardly breath for laughing — "a cupboard!"

"Aren't you supposed to be seeing, McGonagall!" snapped Harry, feeling a bit irritated by his poking fun at him. He tried not to look at Ginny because he could feel her eyes upon him.

Ron's laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started and his face lost its colour. He half-sprinted, half-trudged his way down the stairs and Harry and Ginny followed him.

"Not worth the fuss and bother was it!" Harry flung after him as Ron went out. He went across to join Ginny at the cold empty fireplace and flung himself into one of the armchairs. Ginny took his cue and sat in another angled towards him. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between them for a while.

"What's he mean about a cupboard?"

"Nothing. He's a prat." Harry bit his lip hoping he hadn't spoke too sharply.

Now the silence was more awkward. Ginny shivered a little; the air seemed a little cool. Harry wondered whether he ought to offer her his pullover from upstairs.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor," she murmured.

Harry looked up. "You will be."

There were a few more moments of silence.

"It'd be lovely," she said. "We'd be able to see one another every day."

Harry nodded.

"Harry...?" She was tugging at a loose thread in her chair's leather.

"Yeah?"

"You don't... You're not regretting...?"

"What?"

"You know... You and me?" She let go of the thread and it sprang back into the seam.

Harry grabbed the arms of his own chair and pulled himself upright with a jolt.

"No way! It'll be great! Don't know if Ron's told you but we weren't friends with Hermione for ages last year. Now there'll be four of us!"

She looked at him a little strangely. "Yes, but, we will have... we will be on our own sometimes won't we?"

"Yeah, of course!"

Her face brightened up a little. "Then we don't have to keep pretending."

"Yyyess..." said Harry very slowly. "You mean about... keeping it secret?"

"Yes." Her eyes were shining and she stood up and walked slowly towards him.

"Ginny, about the secret—"

There was a sharp pop and a house-elf appeared in their midst with a coal scuttle hooked over her arm. The creature had one floppy ear bent across an eye; she cringed when she saw them and bowed away almost into the empty fire grate.

"Isilbeth is sorry to be interrupting. Isilbeth thought room is being empty."

She reached for the coal tongs which lay atop the scuttle and Harry dived for her skinny little arm.

"NO! There's no need!" He tried to wrestle the implement from her grasp. The bent ear flapped back and forth revealing she had a squint in one eye. She tried to cover it and dropped the scuttle, spilling coal across the hearth.

"The young sir does not wish Isilbeth to make a nice warm fire?" she wailed, shovelling up the pieces of coal with her bare hands.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, releasing his grip and helping to scoop up the lumps. "I thought you were going to..."

"The young wizard helps poor Isilbeth?" Her eyes, bright with emotion, suddenly filled with recognition and she gasped, clasping her blackened hands together in adoration. "Is... Harry... Potter... Much has—"

"Yes, well, look here, can you... Do you accept orders from students? I mean—"

"Isilbeth will be very happy to carry out orders for Mr Harry Potter sir — that is not conflicting with house orders!"

"Then I order you to... to never harm yourself on my account, alright? Never punish yourself?"

Tears gushed. "Isilbeth is happy to punish herself for Harry Potter's sake!" she sobbed.

"Well, you mustn't. You—." Ginny caught his eye; she was shaking her head ruefully. "No wait — you must ask me to tell you what the punishment is! I order you!"

The elf stopped wailing. "Isilbeth is very proud and happy to perform the punishments of Harry Potter!"

"Then I order you to... erm... Stand on one leg and erm... quote one verse from the first poem that enters your head!"

Ginny giggled.

Isilbeth complied immediately in her squeaky voice, the slow lament,

"_Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
When they're trapped inside your cuff,  
With lots of other dirty stuff,  
Don't you feel you've had enough?_"

"Excellent — now let that be a lesson to you!"

"Harry Potter's punishments is very good," beamed the elf as she returned to her duties.

Soon there was a fire crackling away in the hearth and Isilbeth vanished with one final bow and a squint just as Ron came back in through the portrait hole.

"Mum — flooed," he gasped. "Gave me a right ear-bashing. Surprised you didn't hear her."

"She was here?" said Harry, sounding very surprised.

"Just her head," said Ron, cheerfully. "Ginny, what you up to?"

Ginny had curled up in her armchair with a book. "I'm planning to write up absolutely everything in my diary so I don't ever forget!"

.

~~~ Pixie in a Hat ~~~

Several first-years were panicking. Some seemed to be reciting chants they had memorised; others just looked wild-eyed with their eyes darting around the small chamber seeking a way out. Luna Lovegood was dreamily reading an article about a proposed Muggle Protection Act in the September issue of The Quibbler. "Oh, look! It's been put back another two months!" She turned over the page with much sheet-flapping and continued reading.

There was a surge of interest in her direction.

"I expect they'll be doing that for years," she added. "Poor things."

The door to the room opened.

"Hello, Ginny!" said Luna. "I was wondering where you were."

"Missed the train," said Ginny. "What house are you trying for?"

"Oh, we can't try, I'm sure. A pixie shoots a little arrow — it's rather like cupid only you fall in love with your house. You can see on the skin where it pierces you."

"It's a talking hat, Luna. You have to wear a hat and it tells you."

Luna burst out laughing. "Ginny, you don't believe in such stories, do you?" Her peals of laughter rang out again until she had to clutch her sides. "A t- talking h- hat!"

"Luna listen, it's important. You have to be firm with the... with the pixie. Tell it you want Gryffindor and it will listen. You have to insist. Promise me, Luna or we won't be together!"

McGonagall returned shortly after and led them all into the Great Hall where she placed the Sorting Hat on a big stool where it began to sing.

Luna looked astonished. "I didn't know pixies could sing!"

McGonagall glared at her.

"Armstrong, Paul."

A nervous-looking boy with dark hair stepped forward and placed the hat on his head.

"Hufflepuff!"

Harry, sitting with Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors applauded each time a new Gryffindor came to join them.

"Come on, Ginny! Come on!" muttered Harry to himself, wringing his hands under the table — but his agitation did not go unnoticed.

"Harry — you're more nervous than she is!" chuckled Hermione, softly. "Honestly, I think you prepared her well enough, from what she told me."

"Yes, but how will she manage if she—"

"Lovegood, Luna."

Luna took the hat from the stool and peered inside it.

"Miss Lovegood, please sit down and put on the hat," said McGonagall rather severely.

"But Professor, I wanted a word with the pixie first, just in case."

McGonagall sighed and pushed the hat firmly down over Luna's head and pressed Luna down onto the stool with the same motion.

"Mmm... Very imaginative, I see. Lots of ideas moving around..." said a voice in Luna's head.

"Sir, would you mind not shooting your arrow into my left ear, please, because that's the one I use for listening to people. You can use the other one because that's the one I use when I don't want to listen to anybody at all."

"Devious — but too innocent for Slytherin by far. A good worker but your mind does wander so..."

"If I tilt my head a bit, you won't fall out will you?" Luna tucked one leg under herself on the stool to get more comfortable. McGonagall fidgeted impatiently at her side but Luna was not conscious of anything outside of the hat.

"Lots of courage too and an intuitive wisdom that could be put to use. I think your sparks of inspiration could do well in Ravenclaw."

"I'm supposed to be in Gryffindor so you'd better make your mind up quickly or I'll shake you out of there."

"High-spirited — I like that, and not afraid to speak your mind... Tricky... Now let me think..."

"Sir, my right ear is getting rather numb so you do you think you could just have a stab at it and I'll take a chance?"

"Not afraid of risk, eh? Then it had better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

"Thank you. That didn't hurt at all! I didn't feel anything really. What's your name by the way? Just in case we—"

"Miss Lovegood! Will you please let go of the hat and take a seat at your house table!" boomed McGonagall.

"Oh, sorry — erm... Which one was it, again?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed McGonagall pointing at the beckoning arms surrounding Harry.

"Pyke, Graham"

"Well done, Luna," said Harry.

Luna was looking closely at the scar on Harry's forehead.

"SLYTHERIN!"

A short boy with thick brown hair trotted over to join the Slytherin table.

"Weasley, Ginevra"

Ginny did not even have time to get the hat onto her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry was up on his feet, clapping his hands but Hermione quickly dragged him down. "Don't embarrass yourself!" she hissed, looking around at all the smirking faces.

"Oh... Right." Harry put his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his hands to cover his cheeks. He felt sure he must be sickening for something. _What was I thinking! I nearly betrayed our secret friendship!_

"Told you, Ginny," said Ron with a nod as she, with a wide smile of relief on her face, joined them. "Weasley through and through," added Ron with some pride, Harry thought.

Fred and George were giving salutes. Hermione was beaming. Harry looked almost dazed. Luna was examining Ginny's earlobes for puncture marks.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_In the books, the entrance to platform 9 3/4 is the metal barrier between 9 and 10. I stuck to that but it's hard to visualise. As I recall when I was there in the eighties, it's a high metal post-and-rail fence you can see through. The ticket inspectors had back to back sentry boxes between platforms and the adjacent platforms were shared within so there was no solid barrier before entry onto those platforms. Maybe this is why in the movies they use a brick pillar on the shared platform between 9 and 10. Not too important but confusing if you visualise it like the famous scenes in the movies. _

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

.


	10. Chamber of Secrets Part 05

.

_So far... Harry is back at Hogwarts for his second year despite Dobby's warning because of his friendship vow with Ginny. She and Luna have started their first year and both were sorted into Gryffindor. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 10**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 5**

* * *

.

~~~ Hearing Voices ~~~

It took Ginny only a few days to settle in. Hermione became the target of many a question when it came to homework. Not that she minded; she was glad of the companionship of another girl. Harry smiled as he watched. Hermione seemed most in her element when she was advising someone and Ginny was a willing audience.

Luna was a completely different matter. No one frustrated Hermione more.

"I keep telling her there is no evidence whatsoever," she moaned to Harry and Ron during break one afternoon. "I need only misplace my quill for five minutes or lose a button and it's Nargles this and Blibbering that. It's no wonder she's—"

Ron chuckled. "—got no friends? Now who does that remind me of I wonder!"

Hermione flushed. "Well, yes, she does have Ginny. You must have seen her lots at home, Ron. What did your mum think of her?"

"No, it was only last year, after I had already started at Hogwarts. Ginny was all alone so Mum used to sometimes take her over to the Lovegoods."

Harry lounged back against a pillar and took another sip of pumpkin juice as he watched Ginny chasing Luna around the courtyard in some strange magical game of tag that Harry could not work out. "She's keeping Ginny happy anyway — they're both young, Hermione; let them have their fun."

Ron laughed. "Anyone'd think you were an old man, Harry!"

Hermione frowned. She thought she saw envy on Harry's face. "Harry... Did you... did you ever... actually play when you were little?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, come on, Harry!" said Ron. "You must have played _some_ games, surely? How did you learn chess?"

"Dudley was utterly clueless. I had to let him win even if he cheated."

Hermione's astonishment showed on her face. It was not the injustice that shocked her but the flat manner in which Harry spoke of the atrocities of his childhood.

"You are joking, right, Harry?" said Ron, quietly.

Harry looked at the concern on their faces. "Yeah, sure — just joking."

Hermione wasn't fooled for a moment. "Or else what?" she said softly. "What if you didn't let him win?"

Harry hesitated. It was hard sometimes to know which was the easiest way out. Then he saw Hermione's eyes widen and he sensed what she was imagining. "They rough-handled me but they never actually beat me if that's what you're thinking — they left that to Dudley."

"Then what?"

"Well, just extra work: cleaning, scrubbing, weeding."

Hermione folded her arms. "What else?"

Harry said a word he found very difficult to articulate because it was a word he heard frequently but spoke rarely. "Cupboard."

Now even Ron looked taken aback. Hermione's eyes were shining. "Oh, Harry..."

"Oh, that was ages ago!" Harry tried to laugh but his throat was now so dry the sound cracked harshly as it was delivered, making the claim sound less believable. "Well, a year or two, anyway. I've learned to keep out of trouble so they've hardly ever locked me in this last year, apart from if they have people round, and during the night of course — that hasn't changed."

"They lock you in _every_ night?" cried Ron. Even as he spoke he knew it was true. There was a dead look in they eyes of his friend that declared the truth more powerfully than any scream of despair.

"Yeah — you were there weren't you? You saw it, Ron."

"I thought that was just that one night!" exploded Ron.

"Harry, you should have stood up to them!" said Hermione, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I used to — when I was about three or four years old I went through a screaming phase. Believe me, I was far worse off after that, Hermione. It's best to avoid trouble. It's easy — just keep your mouth shut and do what you're told. Look at Snape for instance. He's always having a go at Neville but he ignores me so long as I complete the work carefully and don't cause any trouble."

Harry took another sip of his drink and shuffled around to lean sideways away from Hermione's penetrating stare so he could follow Ginny and Luna's antics and end the difficult conversation.

"Merlin!" said Ron. "Me and Fred and George and Ginny played all the time when we could — except Quidditch, of course; she was a bit young..."

"Yeah? That's great Ron." said Harry. "I'd hate to think Ginny was like, ignored because she was the only girl. She deserves to enjoy her childhood."

"Ginny's not as young as you think, Harry," said Hermione. "Look... you and I need to talk—"

"What was THAT?" said Harry, spilling juice down his front as he struggled upright. "Did you hear it?"

"Wassup, mate?" said Ron. He was watching Fred and George. It looked as if they were selling sweets to a first-year Slytherin. "I can't believe how gullible first-years are," he chuckled.

The bell rang to end recess and Hermione began stuffing books back from the top of a stone rail and into her bag.

"Did you hear someone?" said Harry.

"Who exactly?" Hermione looked around. There were scores of people chatting all around them.

Ginny and Luna joined them as they wandered back into the passageways to find their next lessons. "We've got our first Charms," said Ginny, excitedly. "Any tips?"

"Yeah," said Ron, "don't show off if you have to hover any feathers!"

Luna screeched with laughter. "You're so funny, Ron. Feathers!"

Hermione thwacked him playfully with the last of the books not yet in her bag but her smile faded while she was passing it to Ginny. "Seems harmless, Ginny — but show it to Professor McGonagall to be sure ... What is it, Harry?"

"Nothing... It's... nothing."

"It can't be nothing, Harry," she said.

"Just thought I heard someone — you know, when you can't quite hear what someone's saying in the distance. Know what I mean?"

"No!" laughed everyone together. Ginny and Luna trotted off happily to their next class, Luna still giggling. "Feathers! That is so funny!"

"I can never tell if she's taking the mickey," grumbled Ron.

"Believe me, she's not," said Hermione, very firmly. "That's what's so scary."

"Let's go this way to Potions," said Harry pointing to the next flight of stairs. "Maybe I might hear it better."

"Hear what, Harry?" said Hermione.

Ron scowled. "Oh come on! It's quicker the way we're going. If we're late then — well, you know what Snape's like."

"Okay then. Yeah, you're right. I don't want to—"

"—be a nuisance!" Ron and Hermione finished for him in unison.

.

~~~ A Little Talk ~~~

The weather became wetter as they entered October and for once there was a Saturday morning with no one outside except for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team who had booked the pitch for practice. Ron had gone out to watch but Harry was in the common room gazing out of a rain-soaked window as Hermione came in through the portrait hole.

"Hermione, is Ginny not with you?" He looked over her shoulder.

"I left her in the library with Luna. Why?"

"Nothing. Well, yes, there is... I've been meaning to ask you something." He looked around. Seamus and Deane were hogging the best fireside seats and Fred and George were hovering not far from them, ready to pounce should either risk a trip to the toilet or even chance retrieving a fallen quill.

Hermione perched on the narrow window seat beside Harry and waited. Her attitude suggested she knew what he was going to ask.

"Ginny's been looking very pale recently — have you noticed? Percy gave her a Pepperup Potion yesterday but she looks more depressed today than ever. And..." Harry hesitated. "I've not had a chance to... Fact is, I was wondering if she's been avoiding me."

"Who, Ginny?" Hermione frowned to gain a few seconds. "Look, she's just a bit... upset."

Harry straightened up with a jolt. "Who! Is it Draco again?"

"No, Harry, it's you."

"Me! What have I done!"

"Well, you're not exactly delivering, are you!"

"Delivering? What you talking about, Hermione?"

"Come on, Harry — she told me about you and her."

"She did? Well she shouldn't have!" huffed Harry, looking indignant. "It was supposed to be a secret! It was her idea anyway for it to be secret."

"I'm sure she meant so her mum and dad and Ron didn't find out."

"Yeah, well. I've kept my part. I've not told anybody."

Hermione sighed. "Not even Ginny?"

Harry swivelled too quickly on the polished walnut surface to face his friend, and had to grab at the window frame to steady himself. He studied her face closely. "Hermione, what on earth do you mean? It's her secret! She already knows! D'uh!"

Hermione's eyes rolled in exasperation. "I meant you've not talked to her! You knew what I meant!"

"We talk all the time! Some or all of us five are together most days aren't we! Sometimes Neville too. We talk about everything! Christmas and spells and dragons and potions homework and Halloween and — and you name it! What else is there to talk about?"

Hermione stared and shook her head in amazement. "Each other, of course. Small talk, interests, feelings, relationships; all the stuff that boyfriends and girlfriends share to express what they feel for one another."

The window seat had been mirror-polished by generations of students sitting upon it so it was no surprise that Harry slipped off so easily.

Fred and George's laughter filtered across to him, chased by Seamus' and Deane's but Harry did not hear; a numbing silence was screaming in his head and a great void of trouble seem to open up before his inwardly-turned gaze. What Hermione had said didn't make sense, but it felt like trouble. A great longing for his cupboard possessed him.

He didn't remember picking himself up off the rug. Nor did he know what he said to Hermione but she repeated the words. He blinked. Several times.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"You've misunderstood, Hermione," he said at last while he tried to compose himself. "Look, me and Ginny, we have a secret. Promise me you won't say a word to anyone, Hermione, okay? Ginny and I are special friends but her parents wouldn't want that because of this 'Boy-who-lived' fame nonsense."

Hermione took a long deep breath then let it out slowly as a sigh. "Sit down again, Harry."

Harry looked accusingly at the slippery-polished window seat then tentatively took his place.

"Harry, you told Ginny she looks nice, didn't you?"

"Well, sort of — her hair looks nice."

"You said she looks nearly thirteen?"

"Well, yeah, I was trying not to hurt her feelings. She'll be twelve next year anyway so it's almost true."

"You asked her if she would be your girlfriend."

"NO!" Harry glanced around at the faces looking his way and lowered his voice, "No, I asked her if she would be my... erm... friend."

"Did you, Harry?" Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Tell the truth. What did you actually say?"

"Erm... Well, I just said, erm... you know."

"You actually said, 'erm... you know?' Harry, it's like a crossword puzzle. If you tell a girl she looks nice and her hair looks nice and she looks much more mature than she really is and then you ask her if she will be your... 'erm' then she will fill in the missing space with whatever is already on her mind, won't she?"

"But that's just stupid! How can she—?"

"You think Ginny is stupid?"

"Well, no, of course not. I meant — don't you dare tell her I said that, Hermione!"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll hurt her feelings, of course!" He kept struggling to keep his voice just below a scream so nobody could overhear.

"What do you care?" Hermione adopted her haughtiest expression — but it was pretence.

"Of course I care!" More faces flashed in his direction so he lowered his voice again, "Of course I care about Ginny — she's my friend."

"No, Harry — she's your girlfriend."

Harry groaned. "Hermione, you've got to get me out of this! All I ever wanted was to not be a nuisance to her and spare her feelings and make her happy."

"Yes, Harry — that's what boyfriends are supposed to do."

"BUT I'M NOT HER—" Harry's cry dropped to a whisper, " boyfriend!"

"Of course you are! Did you seriously think she would want to keep it a secret if it was just friendship! Honestly, Harry! You've spent too long in that foul cupboard—" Hermione jumped off the seat and grasped Harry's hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean..."

But Harry wasn't listening. It was blindingly obvious now. How could he have been so stupid! No wonder the secrecy had seemed odd at the time! His head dropped. "What do I do, Hermione? What do I do? What does she want me to do?"

"She wants you to kiss her, Harry. Ginny wants to be kissed. She writes it every day in her diary."

.

~~~ Biding Time ~~~

The skin of Quirinus Quirrell crawled. His flesh crept upon him like an abuser's hand. Yet, his own fingers, which longed to clench in resistance to his suffering, lay limp and helpless. He felt whatever Voldemort chose for him to feel — and the Dark Lord was displeased.

"You failed me, Quirrell! Why destroy the mirror that held my hope of immortality! We had barely time to flee!"

"Master, take my life in its stead, I beg you," whimpered Quirrell.

The voice was high and cold, yet not completely aloof; its tone was now more sinister, with a pretence of intimacy. "Alas, it will not be so simple for you, Quirinus. You see... I need your flesh."

"Master, you honour me. How might my flesh serve you?"

"We shall return to Albania, Quirinus."

"My Lord? May I ask why? There are many willing to serve you. I can take you—"

"Oh, Quirinus, is it not sufficient that your lord commands it? Is that not reason enough for you?"

"Master, forgive me, I seek knowledge only that I might better assist you."

"Ah, knowledge! And would your new-found wisdom perhaps inform you that where once you found me, others might too? And only those might be trusted in my weakened state? But first, let us continue with your punishment..."

.

~~~ Practice and Pretence ~~~

Harry rubbed his forehead deeply into the rug but he could not erase the pain. Quirrell's screams faded within to be replaced by laughter without and something hit him softly on the shoulder.

"If you're going to keep falling off, Harry, then put that cushion on the floor first!" It was Fred's voice from the other side of the room.

"Harry, don't be such a baby—" giggled Hermione, "—it'll just be a play kiss, after all!"

"Quirrell's alive, Hermione!" said Harry, as he stood up, rubbing his scar. "And I think You-know-who's with him!"

"What are you talking about, Harry! Have you banged your head? You have, haven't you?" Hermione drew her wand.

"No, you don't understand... I saw..."

"What did you see, Harry?" said Hermione, hesitating with her wand.

"It was all blurry — but I heard voices..."

"Harry, these voices you keep hearing..." Now there was concern in her voice. "Perhaps you should speak to—"

"No, these were in my head! The other week — that was real! No, I mean, the ones in my head are real too!" Harry hesitated. Even he now realised how crazy this must sound.

Hermione had a very worried expression on her face and she put away her wand and forgot about her simple headache charm. "I think you should speak to the headmaster, Harry."

"Professor Dumbledore? I don't even know him. I don't want to stir up trouble." He struggled to change the subject.

"Listen, I need your help with Ginny. I don't think I can really kiss her — not yet, anyway. How can—?"

"You have to, Harry, and very soon. Or at least — Harry, I've an idea. Somehow you should ask her for a date. I'm not sure how though since neither of you can go out to Hogsmeade. Perhaps a walk in the grounds would do if only the weather would improve..." She paused to think for a while. "Make a big thing of it. It needs to be something... romantic to compensate, to make up for... well, you know, leaving her hanging. And it will give you time to prepare."

"Prepare? Prepare for what?"

"Why, her first kiss of course! You don't want to make a mess of it and spoil it for her, do you? It needs to be memorable." Hermione gazed out at the falling rain with a dreamy look on her face.

Harry wondered whether to sit down again. He no longer trusted the window seat. "Memorable? I don't know how..." His expression suddenly lightened. "You could show me, Hermione!"

It took a second for Hermione to digest what he was asking. She stared wide-eyed at Harry for a few moments, her face rapidly blushing to a deep crimson, then she turned back to closely examine the raindrops sparkling on the windowpanes.

"You said it's only a play kiss, Hermione! It's just pretend!"

"A play kiss isn't pretend, Harry," said Hermione softly, her breath causing a momentary patch of mist on the window glass. She watched it slowly fade as the wind picked up and the rain became heavier. She spoke without turning, as though deep in some thoughts of her own. "It'll be very real for Ginny!"

"Then help me!" whispered Harry.

He did sit down again then and this time accidentally slid close to Hermione. She recoiled slightly on the seat. "Not here!"

"No, of course not, here, Hermione!" Harry thought for a while. "How about the upper reading room? Ginny's hardly going to go there from the library, is she? So there'd be no risk of her walking in on us — and lots of shelves to hide behind!"

"I'll think about it."

"But you said, very soon and with Ron watching the Huffs practice it's the perfect—"

"I meant, speak to her about the date soon even if it's days—"

"I can't speak to her until I'm... confident I can... Look, now you've told me I want to push on and get it over with quickly, alright?"

"You're very brave, all of a sudden, Harry."

"I'm not a coward!" Harry sensed other eyes were on him again and he lowered his voice once more. "I'm not a coward, Hermione, no matter what you think."

"I never said you were!" snapped Hermione. "It's just that you're usually so chary about doing anything. You always try to avoid confrontation and... attention."

"Exactly, that's what I AM doing! If what you say is true, this is the worst trouble I've ever been in so I want to finish it soon as possible." He stood up and Hermione instinctively stood up with him. "Look, I won't be leading her on. I'll try to be a real boyfriend. She'll probably get bored with me after a few months anyway." He looked around the common room.

"We need a ruse," said Harry. He paused for a few moments. "I know..."

As they walked to the exit, he said rather loudly so those around the fireplace could hear him, "Let's try the reading room, Hermione. I'm sure I saw a book in there of standard star charts."

"I see you learnt to be very devious," frowned Hermione, once they were outside. "But—"

"Had to because—"

"What if Fred or somebody knows there's no such book — or worse, what if one of them has borrowed it!" Hermione stopped and glared at Harry.

Harry patted his carry bag.

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "You've got it, haven't you?"

He nodded. "I learnt a few tricks with the Dursleys about alibis I can tell you."

As they walked the passageway, lightning flashed briefly at the many windows producing a chequerboard of dark and light before them.

"I can't do it, Harry," sniffled Hermione, stopping in one of the dark shadows. "It's just too... horrible."

Harry stared. "Hermione, we're just friends. It'll be like a play."

Hermione shook her head which Harry hardly saw in the darkness — nor did she see his eyes widen.

"You mean you don't know how to either!" he said.

He heard her sharp intake of breath but could not see the colour of her cheeks darken even further.

"So... we can learn together." He waited for her answer. A door slammed faintly far away in another corridor.

"You must never tell ANYONE!" she finally said.

"Of course not."

They resumed their slow walk like a death march. Harry was wondering how he got into these situations when he tried so hard to avoid trouble. Hermione felt more and more uncomfortable with each step.

The reading room was empty but for two first year boys who got up and left when Hermione glared at them as she passed. There was a little counterweight at the top of the door that softly closed it — but so slowly it seemed to take forever. Harry waited impatiently until the gap silently diminished to nothing before he spoke.

"The star charts are over here," he said.

"Harry, we're not actually here for star charts, are we!"

"Best be prepared," he said. "Here, down here is private but we'll have to be fast."

He led Hermione to stand awkwardly at the end of an alley between two high bookshelves.

"Okay," said Harry. "What do we do?"

Hermione seemed now to be rooted by some inner conflict, staring at her shoes. She looked so miserable that Harry only now appreciated how much she hated this. He wondered if, perhaps, she thought she was surrendering her own first special kiss forever — that when that came it would always be behind this second-rate effort. He felt rather mean to deprive her of that. He had rushed into this. It was all wrong.

He took her hands. "It's alright, Hermione. We won't do it." he said very gently. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have asked you."

She looked up then and kissed him quickly on the lips; it was instinctive and affectionate.

"Hang on, I wasn't ready—!" said Harry, surprise written on his face.

Hermione giggled softly. This time she sustained the kiss for longer and closed her eyes. What she was thinking, Harry could not guess; he was too preoccupied.

"Harry, you did it perfectly," she said when they finally parted.

"But I didn't do anything much."

"Yes, you did everything, Harry. It's all in the preparation. You have to really care about Ginny's feelings then she'll sense that — like I just did. It doesn't matter much how perfect or imperfect the actual technique is to begin with."

Harry thought this over. "How come you already knew this, Hermione? I mean, if you've not... did you read it in a book?"

"I didn't know before, Harry. You just taught me."

As they were walking slowly towards the exit they both stopped abruptly; the library door was slowly closing itself.

Harry's heart sank. "Ginny!" he whispered. "She must have seen us!"

When they were approaching the Fat Lady portrait, Harry took out his star chart.

"I don't think that's going to help now, is it, Harry?"

He nodded and put the book away again.

Ginny wasn't in the common room.

"Go up and see if she's in her dorm, Hermione," Harry whispered. "Tell her I'm really, really, sorry."

Hermione nodded and went up the stairs.

Harry felt a cold chill creep over him at the prospect of facing Ginny ever again. He crossed over to join the others at the fireside, lost in his thoughts. Seamus dropped his quill, sighed, and went after it as it wafted into the coal scuttle. Harry sank into his vacated chair. Fred and George groaned. So did Seamus when he turned around.

"So, where's ickle Ronniekins, then?" said George. "Did he manage to lose himself, again?"

"Mmm... Quidditch," muttered Harry, staring at the crackling flames in the fireplace.

Fred and George exchanged glances. Seamus shifted about on his heels for a while then plonked himself down on the arm of Harry's chair to claim it as soon as it became empty again.

"No," said Fred, with the air of explaining something to a tiny infant. "They scrubbed practice early because of the storm. He was looking for you."

"Ah, right," mumbled Harry at the flames.

"I told him you and Hermione had gone to the reading room," said Seamus, gripping the edge of his chair arm ready to move quickly and with one eye on the Weasley twins. He added slyly, "You'd better go and see if he's still waiting there."

Harry blinked as this information sank in. He looked at Seamus briefly as if he had only just become aware that he was there — then he leapt to his feet with a big grin on his face. "YES!"

He ran to the foot of the girls' stairs and met Hermione coming down. Cautious of who else might be around, she mouthed at him, "Ginny's not up there."

Fred and George and Seamus had all dived together into the squashy armchair by the fire and each was claiming ownership.

"It's alright, Hermione!" said Harry, cheerfully, but keeping his voice low. "It wasn't Ginny! It was only Ron!"

Hermione gaped horrified at Harry for a few seconds then turned away, silently struggling to hide her tears. This attempt lasted only seconds for suddenly she was sobbing uncontrollably and ran back upstairs. Harry looked at the comical pile of Fred and George and Seamus and they looked silently back.

"What'd I say?" said Harry.

The portrait hole opened and both Ron and Ginny strode in, deep in conversation which terminated as soon as they saw Harry. Ron had a scowl as thunderous as the storm outside, but it was Ginny's expression that cut Harry more deeply; it was one of disappointment.

"I want a word with you," Ron growled at Harry. He took one look at the crowded area around the fireplace then said, "Let's go upstairs."

The three of them went up to the boys' dormitory. Harry sat on his trunk and Ron sat on his bed with Ginny beside him.

"Me and Ginny have been talking. Where were you! I've been looking all over!" said Ron. "Listen, we've done some thinking: You and Ginny together, right?" His voice took on an excited tone. "We should try to persuade Oliver to have some reserve players. You're a really good flier, Harry. I reckon you might be a decent Chaser. You and Ginny would be great together!"

Harry stared blankly at Ron. "Quidditch? You mean Quidditch?"

Now Ron stared back. "Of course! What d'you think I was talking about? Soccer?" Ron opened his mouth wide and stuck in his finger. "Bleuuuh!"

"You didn't... You didn't go to the reading room then?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah — Seamus said you were in there but it was empty when I popped my head in the door so I thought he meant the library. What'd you think, then? I fancy trying out for Keeper. It would mean we get some practice. And who knows, we might get a real match if someone's ill or in detention. We could beat the Huffs easy — they were rubbish this afternoon."

"Not good weather though, was it, Ron?" Ginny blurted out. "That's why I didn't go to watch. One of the Hufflepuff Beaters is much too lightweight. She couldn't have flown well in this gusty wind and their Keeper at the south end was bound to be blinded with this heavy rain being driven into his eyes so..." She tailed off rather meekly when she saw Harry gawping at her.

"You know about Quidditch?" he said, finally. He felt mildly annoyed that this little girl obviously knew more about the sport than he did.

"Know?" grinned Ron. "Tell him what you just told me in the library, Gin."

Ginny's cheek's went pink. "I've been nicking their brooms since I was little and practising on my own. Fred and George said it was too rough to play with them."

Harry's heart melted to hear of her isolation. When he was eight he had secretly kicked about one of his cousin's old footballs when nobody was about. It had a slow puncture but he kept pumping it up with Dudley's bike pump. It had cost him a week's lockup when he had been found out. Ginny seemed to pick up on his changed expression and was looking at him rather curiously.

"So, I'll have a word with Oliver then, okay?" said Ron, rising to his feet. "You coming?" he called from the stairs.

"In a minute," said Harry.

Ginny showed no indication of following him but sat, clutching her hands together nervously.

"Ginny, I've been waiting for a chance to speak to you," said Harry, whispering until they could no longer hear Ron's footsteps descending the stair.

Ginny's eyes lit up with interest and she nodded encouragingly.

"I've been racking my brains trying to think where we could meet together — you know, just us two, like a date. It's so difficult when we're stuck in school all the time." He didn't mention that he had only applied himself to this task only moments before. "Any ideas?"

Ginny's eyes had widened at this revelation and she blurted out, "Percy just uses empty—" She clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Your brother?" grinned Harry. "Didn't know he was seeing anyone."

"It's a secret. I saw him with Penelope Clearwater. They go in empty classrooms. Don't tell anyone, Harry, please!"

Harry smiled at the thought that he wasn't the only one with a secret relationship. "But if you saw him... well, it's not so secret, is it? If anyone found out about... us, though..."

The word 'us' hung in the air. Harry wondered why it sounded so appealing. Ginny's mouth was open and her eyes were smiling; no longer did any disappointment show there.

"Somewhere far out of the way is better," said Harry. "Or up high? How about the Astronomy Tower? It's out of bounds so nobody would find us there! If we're careful when we go up, it's the safest place in Hogwarts."

"But what if we're seen going up?"

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully then jumped off his trunk and opened it up. "Ginny, don't tell anyone about this."

He took out his invisibility cloak and held it up. Ginny's eyes nearly popped out of her head when he swung it over his shoulders.

"We can meet in the corridor then hide under this when we go up. Once we're there we can cast a charm to warn us if anyone's coming — which is most unlikely seeing as how it's out of bounds!"

Ginny had stood up and was examining the cloak with admiration and wonder. "We might need to keep it handy."

"Why?"

"Nick says the Bloody Baron goes up there sometimes; likes to clank around and moan a lot," said Ginny. She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll ask him, shall I — Nick, I mean — what days the Baron goes so perhaps we can avoid him?"

"Yeah, great! We could take sandwiches and sit and talk and look at the view together. Look, I know it's not much. I wish it could be Hogsmeade but—"

"It's wonderful! It'll be lovely!"

"It will?" said Harry... "Yeah, of course it will."

"Harry! Ginny!" Ron was shouting from downstairs.

They went down to join him. Oliver Wood was to try them out at the next opportunity but he wasn't very enthusiastic about Ginny. Harry didn't like the way he was measuring her up.

He looked around for Hermione; she still had not come back down. The cause of her flood of tears was still a mystery to him. It was understandable that Ginny might have been upset if Ron had told her. Perhaps that was it, he thought; Hermione must have assumed that Ron would tell Ginny.

Harry glanced sideways at Ginny. She was arguing with Oliver — not shy at all once she got roused, thought Harry, but excitedly chatting with him. He looked at him more closely. Wood was in his last year and was practically a man while Harry was a scrawny little boy. He had a sudden picture in his head of Ginny kissing Oliver behind the books in the reading room and a wave of hurt and anger swept through him.

"Harry?"

"What!" snapped Harry.

"Don't bite my head off, Potter!" said Oliver, "I was asking about next Sunday morning for the try-outs."

"Yeah... yeah, that's fine..."

Harry knew. He knew everything. In a blinding flash he knew why Hermione had been so upset because he was feeling the same fear. And he had learnt something about himself too... about how he felt about Ginny.

"Harry, you might have shown a bit more interest," hissed Ron. Oliver was talking to Fred and George in a corner. Seamus had taken the opportunity to run to the toilet.

"Yeah..." muttered Harry, as he sank dumbly into Seamus' seat by the fire. He was vaguely aware that Fred was calling Ron over. He became much more aware when Ginny sat on the arm of his chair. He looked up at her.

"I really _do_ like you," he whispered aloud but almost to himself. He could hear his own surprise in the realisation and Ginny's glow of happiness made him want to kiss her right there and then.

"Harry!" called Ron excitedly as he came over. "Oliver's changed his mind. Fred's been persuading him. He wants to try you as practice Seeker to give Cynthia Blake a challenge in training. Just think, Harry! She's a seventh-year! You might be first Seeker next season!"

Ron turned to run back to Fred and George and almost collided with Hermione who had just come downstairs, red-eyed and dark of countenance. He grabbed hold of her to steady her and cried, "We're gonna do it, Hermione! We're actually gonna play!" He sprinted after his brothers who were going out of the portrait hole, still harassing Oliver Wood.

"Hermione!" cried Harry, vacating his seat but blocking Seamus with his body. "Come and sit down!"

Bewildered, the girl lowered herself into the seat and stared back and forth between Harry and Ginny.

"It's a pity Ron _missed_ us in the reading room, Hermione or you'd have heard!" He heavily emphasised the word 'missed' and looked Hermione positively in the eye, making tiny nodding movements with his head. "Ron and Ginny and myself, we're trying for reserve Quidditch players!"

"Missed us?" said Hermione, trying to absorb what Harry was saying. "Oh, he missed us!" Her face began to brighten. "Oh, that explains it! I wondered what he was excited about! Congratulations, Ginny!"

"Thanks — well, we've not got it yet but still..."

"It's wonderful! Just wonderful! beamed Hermione. She dashed off to the toilet to clean up her puffy eyes.

"Wow!" whispered Ginny. "I didn't realise Hermione loves Quidditch that much! She was nearly crying with happiness!"

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Heartsglow raised some interesting points in a review of the previous chapter that are worth answering publicly. This is my take on it: McGonagall's Portkey went to the dirt path because in the books, that is where all students other than first-years walk up to get onto the horseless carriages. The protected gates of Hogwarts would be opened for these charmed carriages so I assume McGonagall can do that remotely or send Filch. She, herself, let go of the portkey (see my chapter) and flooed into Hogwarts using the floo connection not far from King's Cross. There must be one else how do all the magical folk get from everywhere in the country to/from King's Cross with their kids? Why doesn't Mr Weasley use this floo connection instead of the car? Same reason that McGonagall didn't take the three with her: because they would have to walk the short distance through the streets to/from King's Cross and Harry would be vulnerable. Dumbledore would have briefed them. Was McGonagall irresponsible to send them alone to the path? Nobody could possibly know they were there and it slipped her mind that they didn't yet know about the carriages. To her, that was the normal route for students. I also wanted to include the carriages because it adds story interest and I don't know yet if the invisible Thestrals that pull them might be in a future chapter._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	11. Chamber of Secrets Part 06

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_So far... Harry's 2nd year at Hogwarts. Ginny & Luna are both in Gryffindor. Hermione has explained to Harry he unwittingly asked Ginny to be his girlfriend and she's disappointed not yet to have been kissed. Harry, anxious to avoid more trouble, has asked her on a date up the Astronomy Tower. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 11**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 6**

* * *

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~~~ Setting the Date ~~~

It was two days later before Ginny discovered a date when the Bloody Baron would definitely not be haunting the Astronomy Tower.

"Harry! Luna says Nick's having a deathday party!" said Ginny breathlessly as she caught up with him in the Charms corridor. Harry took out his Standard Book of Spells and opened it so it looked like they were talking about schoolwork.

"A what?" he whispered back.

"A deathday party — it's the anniversary of the day he died."

"Ginny, you know Luna is a bit... erm... unusu...ally... nice, but a deathday party? Are you sure she's not—?"

"But it's true! I asked him myself — Nick, I mean — and the Bloody Baron will be there!"

A group of third-years passed them and Harry read out "_The Wand-Lighting Charm is simple, but requires concentration. Take care not to accidentally set your wand alight as..._" He tailed off as they disappeared around the next corner.

"So... you mean...?" he said.

"We can go up the Astronomy Tower that evening. It's the thirty-first."

Ginny nudged his elbow as another student ran by them.

"_The counter-charm for the spell is..._ But that's Halloween, Ginny! The thirty-first is Halloween!""

"Yes, sorry. Do you mind, Harry? We'll miss the feast." Ginny looked at him closely.

"Not at all! I'd much rather... We can have our own feast, Ginny! Take up a basket from the kitchen and have a sort of picnic under the stars if it's clear."

Ginny tried to suppress a squeal and looked nervously up and down the passageway. "So, it's okay then?"

"It's a date, Ginny!"

.

~~~ False Detention ~~~

"So, it's all set!" Hermione finished off her notes and leaned back in her favourite library chair.

"Yes, and all thanks to you — and for managing the little details!" smiled Harry.

"It's been worth it. Ginny's so excited I can see her trembling sometimes, Harry — it means everything to her! It's good of you to go through with this."

"Well, I do really like Ginny anyway so it's not as if it's unpleasant for me to play the part of her boyfriend; I quite like it actually."

"So... I'll go now, shall I?" said Hermione. "I don't really like deceiving Ron but it would be unthinkable for him to find out."

"You're sweet on him, aren't you, Hermione?"

Hermione turned to putting her books away but Harry could tell she was embarrassed and perhaps even hurt by his remark. As he watched his friend leave the library he vowed to help her. Immediately he slapped himself on the forehead. _Why, oh why do I make these promises to myself!"_ He knew he would need every ounce of his devious side to pull this off without causing any bother.

...

"I don't believe it!" cried Hermione to Ron and Ginny as she joined them in the common room. "Filch showed Snape one single clump of mud off Harry's Quidditch boots in the Astronomy corridor and he's got to scrub the whole floor tonight."

"Harry? But he never gets detentions!" said Ginny.

"I know and—"

"Did you say tonight? But it's the Halloween feast, Hermione!" said Ron, looking up from his Daily Prophet. He slapped the newspaper with the back of his hand. "The entire wizarding world will be celebrating and Harry'll be in detention?"

"I know. It's awful." Hermione was pretending to examine a book she'd just brought from the library but she was looking past it to gauge Ron's reactions.

"He can't do a detention on Halloween," added Ron glumly. His face suddenly brightened. "I know! We'll slip away early and take him some goodies from the feast!"

"NO!" cried Hermione.

Ron's mouth gaped at her outburst.

"Er... I mean... No, Ron, you know how Harry hates attention and fuss. Wait for him to come back to the common room afterwards and we'll have a quiet snack. He'll like that. What do you think, Ron?" Hermione looked anxiously for Ron's reaction.

"Well... I guess so..."

"We'll have to save him some baked pumpkin..." said Hermione, sounding as melancholy as she could.

"I'll be a bit late myself for the feast with all this homework," moaned Ginny, winking at Hermione.

"Just leave it till tomorrow," said Ron. "That's what I'd do."

"Can't. Got to hand in two essays in the morning." Ginny stretched and yawned. "Oh well, think I'll take a break before I start them. I'll take a long, slow bath..."

After she had gone out, Ron, with most of his attention buried in the Prophet, muttered, "Don't know how she's got time for a bath if she hasn't got time to get to the feast at the start."

"Helps her relax so she can concentrate better," said Hermione. "You should try it some time."

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~~~ Life and Death Day ~~~

Harry crouched down behind an empty stone pedestal and adjusted his cloak to make sure not a single toe was visible. He sighed and looked at his watch. Ginny was nearly ten minutes late. He resigned himself to being patient and recalled Hermione's advice that it was something called a woman's prerogative so he shouldn't be surprised if Ginny was a few minutes late. _Yes, but TEN minutes!_ retorted a grumpy voice in his head. He kicked the food hamper he had wedged into the alcove and the pedestal wobbled slightly.

He put his head on one side, straining to detect the sound of her footsteps. All he could hear was the distant cheery hubbub of the Halloween feast and the growling of his own stomach. _Come on, Ginny!_

Fifteen minutes later his mind was oscillating between concern that she might be ill or injured, and the nagging feeling that she had forgotten and was enjoying the feast. _Not Ginny!_ he thought. _But suppose she had wandered down to the Great Hall without thinking and couldn't get away easily?_

He stood up. He crouched down again. He listened. There was a faint voice but it was not hers. It was odd, he thought, high and harsh but too faint to make out what was being said. He stood up again.

Harry could not stay still. For ten more minutes he paced the Astronomy corridor, pausing at each end to peer along it. Waves of worry vied with irritation. _This is getting ridiculous! I'm only doing it for her anyway! I didn't even want this!_

He recalled then a little girl in a white frock when he was only six years old and how he had yearned to sit next to her in class but never could. He did not know why he had liked her so powerfully; he had been too young to reflect on the matter. Dudley, seeing his attentiveness, had said she wanted to talk to him behind the bike sheds. How long he waited in vain he did not know but the hurt and disappointment bursting inside was the same as now...

Harry tried to push that feeling away. He fought it irritably, snapping at his own fears like a cornered rat. The darkness in the corridor seemed to close in upon him as he walked back and forth. He began to feel more and more annoyed with himself. He strove earnestly to improve his mood. Ginny might be here any moment. She would come. She must come. He would stay here forever until he starved — THEN she would be sorry!

"Harry?"

He spun around. Ginny was addressing the pedestal where he had told her he would be. He half-stuffed his cloak into a pocket and ran to her.

"What happened?" He wished he had not sound so snippy; he had planned not to.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," whimpered Ginny. "I... think I got lost..."

"You got lost? In Hogwarts?" _Why does my voice sound like I'm angry!_

"One of the moving stairs turned and I was... I don't think I'd been there..."

"But it's..." He glanced at his watch. "FORTY minutes, Ginny! How can you be lost for—?"

She covered her face with her hands as tears flowed. "I d- don't r- remember! C- can't r- remember what—"

It seemed so unfair to Harry that she should be crying. He was the one who ought to be crying! He was the one who had waited most of an hour!

"You didn't remember we were going to meet here for our first date, FORTY minutes ago?"

Ginny shook her head, unable to speak for the heavy sobs that jerked her shoulders.

_What do I care! She's the one who wanted the ruddy date!"_ Harry flung his head back and his arms up in exasperation, not knowing what to do with the crying girl. He glared at her. She was peeping out between her fingers. There was blood on them.

In an instant his icy stance melted and he was filled with concern.

"Ginny, Ginny! Are you hurt?" He took her hands away from her face and examined them.

"I m- must have f- fallen d- down." Ginny looked as surprised as he was to see the spots and smears upon her fingers.

Harry took out his handkerchief and cleaned away the blood but could see no wound in the unlit corridor. "Just a cut, I guess, but it's stopped bleeding now. You feel alright?"

Ginny nodded but it turned into a shake of her head.

"Do you still want to go up the tower?" he said, not knowing what to suggest.

She did nod this time.

They started up, Harry leading the way because to be side by side on the narrow stairway would mean a closeness that was lost to them. He glanced over his shoulder. Her head was still drooping and she was sniffling with misery. He wanted to drop back a couple of steps and put an arm round her shoulder but couldn't bring himself to do it. His stomach rumbled again and he clutched at himself to try to smother the sound. It wasn't even funny in the circumstances. The food basket, he then remembered, he had left downstairs behind the pedestal. His lips smacked together and he took a deep gasp of air in annoyance.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," whimpered Ginny.

"No, it's just that I left the hamper downstairs. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. Strangely, he wasn't either — only his stomach was.

They continued to the top then stood awkwardly a little way apart from each other on the main viewing platform of the tower. The stone beneath their feet was cold and unforgiving. The only bench looked hard and damp. High above, the vaulted stones leered over them darkly. Through the surrounding arches neither moon nor stars were visible to lift their spirits, but there were rainclouds aplenty to press them down. She shivered.

"Didn't you bring a pullover or anything?"

She shook her head. All he had was his invisibility cloak but at least it would keep the wind off. He swung it around her shoulders but as she disappeared he felt their separation more sharply. He thought things couldn't get any worse so he pulled the folds of the cloak over his own shoulders too; then over their heads so they could see each other under the cloak at least.

They stood there pushed stiffly together until Harry finally made himself start to put a tentative arm around her. Before he had even finished, she had her two arms triggered tightly around him; still trying to make a success of her first date despite everything.

"Ginny? You're trembling! What happened to you? Did you see someone? Did somebody say something?"

"Oh Harry!" she buried her face between his neck and shoulder. "I don't remember anything! I don't even remember leaving my dorm."

Harry didn't know what to make of that. "I'm sorry this... our... I'm sorry it's not so nice for you, Ginny. Sorry I was a bit grumpy. I wanted your first date to be perfect then I completely spoilt it."

"It's alright though, isn't it?" she said. "Not too bad, I mean? We're here now, together?"

Harry stared into the darkness over her shoulder and stopped himself shaking his head in disbelief. After all that had happened, she thought shivering cold and hungry here up this miserable tower hugging Harry Stupid Potter without even a chair to sit on was 'not too bad?' He thought a bit more as they stood silently holding one another. After a while he began to wonder himself if it wasn't that bad. The cloak was keeping the cold breeze away and she felt soft and warm against him. And Ginny was liking him in spite of everything. Yes, that felt nice — to be liked even though you've spoken unkind words. Perhaps they could salvage something from the evening after all. Maybe all he had to do was kiss her.

She took his silence for disappointment. "Am I alright, Harry? Do you think I'm okay?"

"Okay? I'm not quite sure what you mean, Ginny."

"As a girlfriend, I mean. I don't really know if I'm... I could change a bit if you wanted — if you didn't like me enough, perhaps? Only I don't know what's for the best."

"Change? No, I like you as... how you are. I think you're good as a girlfriend, actually. Yes, very good. Erm... What about me though?"

"Oh, Harry, I think you're great as a boyfriend! No, I only meant me. You're... you're Harry Potter after all." She hesitated for a few seconds as if thinking about what she had said then added all in a rush, It's not just because you're Harry Potter though! I mean..." Harry could feel the tension in her arms as she struggled to express herself. She added rather limply, "I'm not very good at saying things how I mean." Now he could almost feel her squirming with embarrassment.

"I think you're good at saying things, Ginny. It's erm... nice when you say things." He wondered if she understood he meant he liked to hear her talking. She laughed happily anyway so perhaps she did.

Ginny relaxed a little against him then but Harry still knew they were clumsy together. He tried to remember what Hermione had said about kissing but he couldn't remember anything; after all, Hermione had kissed _him_ not the other way round. He had wanted so much to get it right for Ginny and now he was stuck in this moment. There was no going back to practice nor leaving it for a better day. He didn't know what to do. He certainly couldn't let go of her until she released him first.

Yet Ginny seemed satisfied merely to go on holding him. Five minutes passed, then ten, and Harry's legs ached just a little so he knew hers must be too; they both had been on their feet for over an hour since leaving the common room. He shifted his weight back a little and she moved with him but now the wet bench was immediately behind him, digging into the back of his left calf.

_To hell with it! It's only water!_ he thought to himself and sat, drawing Ginny down with him upon his knees; at least one of them would be dry. She seemed to move with him as in a dance. It reminded him of when his Aunt Petunia cut his hair: she shoved his head about with her fingers to get the right angle. It had always seemed rude to Harry — like he was being treated like an annoying piece of clay — but he had learnt to yield before those prods; it had become instinctive in time and was less strain than resisting.

That summed up his life, he thought glumly: it was all just giving way to whatever circumstances were pushing you around at the moment. Resistance created friction and pain so why bother unless it was really important? He would remain supple like his wand, and bend with the winds of tribulation.

He asked himself if Ginny would be that yielding. What had Mr Ollivander said of her wand? _Nice and reactive._ Was Ginny as alike to her wand as he was to his?

He leaned his weight a tiny bit to the side and she tilted with him. When he eased back she was there too. Without planning it, Harry was soon tenderly rocking her left and right on his lap, soothing away every last teardrop. He could hear each breath and sensed contentment in their rhythm: the ebb and flow of an endless, muted sigh. Her response calmed his every doubt and led them slowly to their centre. Harry and Ginny became very quiet and still.

As their lips gently touched he knew the insufficiency of Hermione's explanation. Caring was only part of the whole spontaneous impulse. Harry was drawn by Ginny's lips as surely as she was to his. It seemed to him that circumstance kissed them together at the right moment: his yielding, her responsiveness; the softness of contact happened to them without a decision. It wasn't something they did; it was something they experienced together.

The intensity of affection that Harry felt was new to him. Never had he been so completely accepted and embraced and he returned that love with equal reverence.

Vaguely were they aware of walking hand in hand back down the tower steps. They were young sweethearts, lost in a vivid sensation, bringing the moment with them and near-oblivious of their surroundings and what the future might hold. The experience had begun to slowly change Harry's view of life and of himself.

"Here, you take the basket, Ginny and go first," whispered Harry. "Make out you went down to the kitchen because you missed the feast doing your homework. I'll come along in a few minutes, weary from my detention and weak from hunger and you can reluctantly let me share your basket."

Ginny giggled softly, her eyes still shining in the darkness. He watched her reach down for the little hamper and walk away backwards watching him intently until she disappeared around the first corner. Only then did he become aware of the commotion of the revellers leaving the feast. He decided to head towards them and come around another way from Ginny.

As he approached, it became clear that the cries and comments were not anything to do with a party spirit: they were sounds of anxiety and confusion — and they were coming from up the next flight of stairs.

.

~~~ The Writing on the Wall ~~~

"Harry — what are you doing down there? Haven't you been told to go straight to your common room?" It was Percy Weasley and he was frowning with annoyance as he came down the steps.

"What's going on, Percy?"

"Never you mind. I'll escort you myself. Come along. This way. Quickly now." Percy had adopted his prefect mode and it was hard to penetrate that shell.

"'Escort?' Are we in danger then, Percy? Is someone in trouble?"

Before Percy could answer, Harry had a sudden picture in his mind that he wasn't exactly sure which way Ginny would have gone. Harry had sprinted up half a flight of the stairs before Percy even realised. He had to find Ginny in case it was her that was in peril.

"Potter! What do you think you are doing! Get back down here immediately!"

But Harry was up on the second floor and running towards the knot of teachers at the next junction, his feet splashing through puddles of water along the floor. Snape was the first to hear his approach and stepped forward to block him. "Potter! Where are you going!"

"How dare you flout my authority, Potter!" cried Percy coming up behind him. "Professor Snape, I specifically ordered Potter to go to his common room."

Harry wasn't hearing either of them. He was staring at a dead cat hanging from a torch bracket. Above it, painted on the wall in tall red letters, were the words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

"Potter — What are you doing here?" It was McGonagall detaching herself from conversation with the headmaster, who drew Harry back to reality.

"I erm... Sorry, I panicked, Professor McGonagall! Ran the wrong way! Sorry, Professor Snape." Harry turned away to Percy. "Sorry, Percy, you scared me. I thought we were in danger and I ran away. I'm sorry." Years of rapid excuses and grovelling poured the words out of Harry instinctively.

Certainly Harry Potter's face was as pallid as Snape's and his eyes were still wide with worry and fear. Dumbledore gave him a strange look. "Most curious..."

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape, and Harry, who had avoided confrontation with the Potions Master for so long, had a sudden sense of foreboding. There was a slight sneer curling his mouth. "We do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why did Potter come to this particular upstairs corridor at all? Why run towards danger instead of away from it? And why was he not at the Halloween feast?"

"I just wasn't hungry, sir," said Harry quickly. "My family are Muggles. They hate magic. They have never celebrated Halloween. I went for a walk to work up an appetite — then ran into Percy who scared me into running the wrong way but who I now see was trying to help me in the other direction to safety."

"'Safety,' did you say?" The headmaster was looking at Harry closely over his half-moon spectacles. "Harry, do you know anything, anything at all, about this...?" He gestured at the wall.

"Nothing, sir," said Harry promptly. He turned to look at the wall again. It wasn't his problem. All he had cared about was that Ginny was not in danger. "What is it? Is it a prank, sir?"

"I'll give you, 'prank!'" snarled Filch, who Harry had not noticed in the shadows until then. "Mrs Norris is dead and you think it's a joke! Ask him where's he's been, Professor!" he had turned to the headmaster. "Up to no good I'll be bound."

"Calm yourself, Argus. I regret the demise of your cat but I do not believe Harry has had anything to do with the events of this night." Dumbledore turned to Percy, gesturing for him to take Harry. "If you would continue..."

"Of course, sir," said Percy. "Come along, Potter — and no dawdling."

"But Headmaster," pleaded Snape, "surely the deduction of house points must be—"

"No, I don't think so, Severus," said Dumbledore. "That, of course, is up to the head of his house, Professor McGonagall, but if we are to penalise panic then we should very soon run out of house points altogether, don't you think?"

Harry was too far away by now to fully hear Snape's muttered reply but he imagined it was, "If Potter was panicking then I'm a pork pie."

"Consider yourself very fortunate, Potter," said Percy. "It's not like you at all. I have it on good authority that the staff regard you as a model student and I would have agreed until tonight."

Harry nodded as they walked along, puzzled about his impulsive action. What was wrong with him? He had never gone looking for trouble before in his life unless... unless it was really important.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Hope that kiss wasn't too OTT but Harry needed a good kickstart to fire him up. But don't expect too much too soon! Old habits die hard._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	12. Chamber of Secrets Part 07

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_So far... Harry's 2nd year at Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny have kissed atop the Astronomy Tower but only Hermione knows their secret. Meanwhile, Filch's cat has been found dead next to a message on a wall saying the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 12**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 7**

* * *

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~~~ The Heir of Slytherin ~~~

"Is it true then, Granger?" said a worried-looking third-year named Katie Bell one lunchtime in the Great Hall a few days later, "you actually spoke to Binns and he said there's a monster in the Chamber?"

Hermione nodded a little nervously. She was still only gradually being accepted by the older girls after the bossiness she had shown at the beginning of her first year. "Yes, Katie, that's what killed Mr Filch's cat."

Katie frowned. "Any ideas what it might be?"

"Everybody knows it's an Occamy," said Luna, serenely as she squeezed more Gurdyroot infusion onto her pickled onions.

"Luna," said Hermione, rolling her eyes, "nobody knows what the creature is. Anyway, there are no Occamies in this country."

"But there were no footprints so it must be an Occamy," persisted Luna. "It can slither and it can fly so it could roost within the spires of Hogwarts. That must be where the entrance is to the Chamber of Secrets and that is why no one has found it in all these years. And Occamies eat rats so it regarded Mrs Norris as a competing predator which explains why it killed her but didn't eat her."

Hermione looked at her thoughtfully but said nothing.

"What do you think... Hermione?" asked Katie. Whatever she had thought the previous year, she had learnt that Hermione was, if nothing else, very knowledgeable about a great many things.

"Yes, it might explain why it killed the cat. But Professor Binns said it would purge the school of the 'unworthy' - in other words, Muggle-borns. So who or what is directing the monster?"

Katie's shoulders visibly relaxed when she heard that, but then her eyebrows shot up. "But you're..."

"That's right," said Hermione. She lifted her chin and shuffled herself more upright in her chair. "Both my parents are Muggles."

"Kevin and I are going on safari through all the rafters of Hogwarts to try to find its eggs as proof," smiled Luna. She waved at a first-year boy at the Ravenclaw table. He looked embarrassed and didn't wave back but instead seemed to be examining his fork very closely. "See? He's very excited about it."

"You're not going to steal eggs, Luna, surely?" said Ginny.

"Of course not. I shall paint a picture."

"But how could that be evidence?" said Hermione.

"Oh, but I've never seen an Occamy egg before so if I draw one then I must have seen one here at Hogwarts so that definitely proves it."

Ron sniggered. "So long as you don't get eaten first."

Luna shrieked with laughter, getting a dark look from McGonagall at the head of the Hall. "Eggs don't eat people, Ron!"

"Whatever the creature is, it can't get out unless someone let's it out of the Chamber," said Hermione. "I mean, it's not running rampant everyday is it? So someone must be opening the Chamber of Secrets."

Everyone looked at everyone else.

"But who, Hermione, who?" asked Katie.

"According to Professor Binns, only the heir of Slytherin can release the monster."

All eyes swivelled to the Slytherin table. All eyes except Harry and Ginny who took every opportunity to look at each other without it being too obvious.

.

~~~ Upsets ~~~

Through November, Harry and Ginny were spending more time together — though they never kissed or even held hands in public view. Ron, if he gave it any thought at all, wasn't complaining for it often meant that he and Hermione could then talk exclusively with each other. He enjoyed her company more than he realised — not that their encounters were entirely agreeable. Hermione still had a controlling side to her nature but Ron, for the most part, accepted it, tolerated it, even began to respect it — but not always.

"Ronald, you learn nothing by copying my history essay!" stormed Hermione for the third time early one evening towards the end of the month. She looked closely at the front cover of the book that Luna had leant her, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_ and turned to the page that Luna had bookmarked with a bootlace.

"So what's the downside? I hate history," smirked Ron.

"So does Harry but at least he makes the effort!" Hermione closed Luna's book and carefully added a few lines to her notebook.

Ron took a sideways glance across the common room at Harry who was helping Ginny with a potions essay, seated around a study table. "Yeah, but only because he always tries to avoid trouble. He'd throw a wobbly if he turned in a disastrous test — but I reckon he'd also totally panic if he came top! Have you noticed he always gets bland, decent-to-very-good but average sort of results? He likes to be unnoticed, does Harry."

"No, he's top in Defence, second in Charms, very high in Potions and not bad at Herbology — it's only History where he's average," said Hermione.

"Yes, but he's only averagely high in Potions," said Ron, cryptically. "So, suppose we compromise? Just lend me half your essay today and the other half tomorrow?"

Hermione sighed. "Is that your idea of a compromise! No, Ronald, it's time you started to—"

Ron threw down his quill. "Not much of a friend then are you! Harry won't refuse me! Average results are better than none at all!" He thrust his chair back and stomped over to Harry and Ginny.

Hermione bit her lip and resigned herself to the stinging rejection. Was she still being too bossy? Harry and Ginny seemed to have adjusted to each other; perhaps she should too? She heard them laughing with Ron. It hurt. And now they were talking about her; she could tell from the way they kept glancing at her. She shrank down to her book and lowered her head to hide the dark, aching pain that must, she thought, be clouding her expression.

"Yeah, course you can, Ron. Anything for an easy life," laughed Harry, "but you want to ask Hermione; her essays are much better than mine."

"Already did, mate but she's coming all high and mighty again," snorted Ron, dipping into Harry's schoolbag and rummaging for his History Essay. He found a Chocolate Cauldron and questioned with his eyes to Harry who nodded he could have it.

"Says I won't learn nothing," scoffed Ron as he munched the sweet. "Always pushing me."

Harry looked at Ginny who gave a slight shake of her head.

"Yeah, well you know why, don't you?" said Harry, then quickly started talking about something else, "Reckon one of us might get a chance to play as a substitute this weekend? Spinnet definitely looked a bit peaky to me earlier on."

"Why?" cut in Ron, trying to stop Harry changing the subject.

Harry ploughed on, "What'd you think, Gin? Might Wood substitute you as Chaser?"

Ginny picked up on Harry's switch. "Hope so; Alicia should take a break for a few—"

"months!" laughed Harry.

"What'd you mean, 'you know why?''' persisted Ron.

"What, Ron?" said Harry, off-handedly.

"What's it to her whether I learn history? I mean, it's no loss to her is it?"

Harry wrinkled up his nose and looked to Ginny again for support.

"Ron," she said, "do you hate Hermione?"

"Yes, when she's in this mood," said Ron, digging his hands into Harry's bag again to see if he'd missed anything.

"Take a look at her mood, Ron. Take a good look," said Ginny.

Ron looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, well."

"She's obviously upset, isn't she?" said Ginny.

"Not my fault," said Ron.

"Why'd you think she's upset, Ron?" said Harry, looking intently at his friend who averted his gaze and pretended to find something interesting amongst Harry's books.

"I dunno, do I? She's a girl," said Ron.

"Exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Ron. "She hates me."

"Ron," said Harry quietly, "If she hated you, she'd be laughing right now because she refused to help you and you had to settle for second-best — me."

"Oh, so now she's upset because she likes me? Is that what you're saying? Oh, here's an idea, let's all learn boring history so we can sit around liking one another!"

"Sounds like a good trade to me," said Harry, quietly.

"Yeah, well you'd do anything _for a quiet life,_" scoffed Ron.

"Listen, Ron," snapped Ginny, and Harry saw that same warning flare in her eyes she had surprised him with before, "we've noticed you seem to spend a lot of time chatting with Hermione so you must like her!"

"Have to, don't I?" barked Ron. "With you clinging onto Harry's robes just because he's famous! Think I ain't noticed? Merlin's boots! You're only taking advantage because you know he won't refuse anyone if it's a bother!"

Ginny's face went pink and she bit her lip. "Not true," she said quietly, trying to gauge Harry's reaction without actually looking at him — but he had already leapt angrily to his feet.

"Don't have a go at Ginny!" Harry said menacingly.

Ron's eyes flared and he stared back, looking very surprised at Harry.

Ginny put her hand on Harry's arm and he lowered himself back into his seat but his eyes were still on Ron.

"Ron," said Ginny, "if you'd heard that Filch said you're a lazy, good-for-nothing prat, what would you do?"

"Eh? What's that got to do with anything? I don't give a monkey's what Filch says."

"What if Hermione said it?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Has she been saying things?"

"What? You mean you care what she says about you?" said Harry, picking up on where Ginny was taking this.

"Well of course I do! She's—"

"I'll say it for you, Ron," said Harry. "She's your best friend in all the world. Rightly or wrongly, it's because she cares about you that she wants you to actually learn history and not just cheat."

"And you hurt her feelings, Ron," added Ginny, "really badly. What'd you say to her?"

Ron glanced over to Hermione's table. She had gone. He looked at the clock on the far wall. It was too early yet for dinner.

"Dunno. I said she's" —he flushed at the memory— "not much of a friend."

Harry sighed. He had to speak up now no matter what trouble he might get himself into. Anyway, he had made a vow to try to help. "Ron, Hermione thinks more of you than any of us, including myself."

Ron's legs sagged and he sank down into a chair. Ginny looked at Harry with uncertainty written all over her face. Harry had no idea how to proceed from there. Ron remained silent, the half-eaten cauldron long-forgotten.

Ginny's hand, which still rested on Harry's arm, gave a supportive squeeze.

"Really?" said Ron, finally. "She said that?"

Harry answered. "No — if she had then I wouldn't have told you — but it's obvious you two like each other, you prat."

There was another long silence then Ron said, "Just lend me your notes then this once. I'll write my own essay."

After he had departed for the reading room, Harry gaped at Ginny in astonishment. "That's a first! Make a note of that one, Ginny, 'cos it might never happen again!"

Ginny smiled then glanced at her watch. She started to rise then sat down again. "It's nothing," she said in response to Harry's inquiring look, "I just keep forgetting to write in my diary. It's over a week now. I must try to remember to do it before dinner or I'll forget again."

"Maybe you have other things on your mind," smirked Harry with a gleam in his eye.

Ginny glanced quickly around the common room but Seamus was by the fire with Deane and there were a couple of first-year girls at another table.

"Need a cuddle?" said Harry.

She nodded shyly and lowered her face to look at a potion ingredient diagram.

"It's upside-down," said Harry, softly.

She flushed a little deeper and turned the book around.

Harry sighed. "One day, Ginny, we won't have to be so secretive."

She looked up then. "It'll be really nice then, won't it Harry? I'll be so proud — no, that's silly. I mean, I'll be so happy." Then she added, reluctantly, as if just discovering something about herself she didn't like but had to concede, "I suppose I will be proud."

Harry smiled. "I'm really ordinary, Ginny; you must know that now."

"That wasn't true what Ron said earlier!" she said quickly. Her face was full of concern and the words came babbling out, "About your fame, I mean! You didn't think that did you? That's not why I like you. You don't think that do you, Harry? You don't think I only like you because you're famous, do you? I like you because you're you. ... You have to believe me, Harry!"

Harry stared; the girl looked extremely anxious. "Ginny, don't worry so — it's not important. It's what—"

"You do think it then?" She stood up then sat down again, clearly agitated.

"I never thought about it except when I first came to The Burrow in the summer. It's not—"

"But you won't actually say 'no'?" She was on her feet again and a little tearful. "I promise I'm not like that anymore, Harry! I promise!"

Harry couldn't think what to say for several seconds. What Ginny thought of that he didn't know but she suddenly ran off up to the girls' dormitories.

He sagged back in his chair, staring at the half-eaten Chocolate Cauldron and the forgotten potions diagram. He seemed to be cursed with trouble even though he did his best to avoid it. He looked at the clock then decided to take a long, long walk around the passageways of Hogwarts to work off his depression and end up at the Great Hall in time for dinner. Perhaps Ginny would have calmed down by then and he might have thought up something to say to her.

.

~~~ Sweet and Deadly ~~~

But he thought of nothing nor was Ginny at dinner when he arrived in the Great Hall. Ron was absent too. Hermione was in her usual seat but she looked miserable. _What can the great Harry useless-at-talking Potter say to comfort her? Will she even want to speak to me?_ He decided to just tell her the truth.

Students were still arriving. Dinner had not yet been served but the shining plates, dishes, and goblets promised it would not be long before the food appeared. He sat down between Neville and Hermione and she looked up from writing in her notebook at Harry then over his shoulder towards the open doorway.

"Don't know if Ron's coming or not," he said.

"Who cares?" she said off-handedly. She started playing with her fork while she studied her notes.

"You do for one," said Harry. "He'll come around in the end, I suppose."

"You suppose?" she said. After a while she closed her notebook and added, "So... what's he doing?"

"Dunno. He went out to do his history homework. I only lent him my rough notes. He said he'd write his own essay from them this once."

"This once?" Hermione looked puzzled.

"I think me and Ginny got him to see sense. Hope so, anyway. He looked a bit guilty about what he said to you."

"He did?" Hermione sat up straighter. The food was coming into view before them but she paid it no attention.

"Yeah. I reckon we convinced him how lucky he is to have a friend like you."

Hermione blushed crimson and a frown fought with a pleasurable smile for dominance. "You didn't!"

She tried to distract herself by scooping with a serving spoon from a big bowl of rice onto her plate.

"Yep. Just give him time." He watched her carefully as she started shovelling from another tureen. "I didn't know you liked beef curry, Hermione?"

"What? ... Oh..."

As they talked, Hermione lightened up more and more and the smile won over from the frown. "This tastes quite good actually."

Harry laughed and she joined him by laughing at herself. "Thank you Harry. For someone so deprived of contact when you were little, you seem good at smoothing things over. You and... where is Ginny by the way?"

"We fell out." Harry laughed dryly at the irony. _Harry Potter, the great matchmaker, can't even keep the peace with his own girlfriend!_

Hermione stared, the last morsel of her curry half way to her mouth.

"Pass the dessert list please, Harry," said Neville.

"Er... right, here you are..."

He turned back to Hermione again. "Don't worry. She was upset because she thought that I thought she liked me only because I'm famous."

"And do you?"

"Don't be daft, Hermione. Finish your curry and have something to sweeten you up after that spiciness. There's treacle tart on the menu. Help yourself."

Neville reached across Harry and grabbed two big slices. "Don't mind if I do, Harry."

Hermione smiled, swallowed and looked at all the other puddings. None of them appealed to her this evening so she hesitated. She opened up her notebook again. "I think I'll skip pudding." She looked very thoughtful all of a sudden.

"Try it this once," said Harry. "You might like it. Custard if you want too. Go for vanilla; chocolate-flavour's gross with golden syrup. I tried them all last year."

She took out a mini-quill and ringed around something in her book.

"Hermione! Don't you ever stop?"

She looked up. "Oh, alright then. No custard but maybe I'll try the tart — oh, it's the last slice."

"Go on, before I change my mind and take it first."

"Hey! What have you done with my tart, Harry?" said Neville

"What's that, Neville?" said Harry, grabbing a sponge pudding and keeping his gaze fixed on Hermione. "There, now you've got to have it — it's got your name on it."

"My tart — both slices. Come on, Harry!" said Neville.

Laughing, Hermione took the last treacle tart and even poured on a little custard. They were both cheering up in each other's company.

"Harry!" persisted Neville.

"What's up?"

"Oh, it's alright! There's more over here." Neville turned to Seamus on the other side of the table, "Sling us a couple of slices of treacle tart from over there, would you?"

At the end of the meal, Harry and Hermione sipped apple juice together before preparing to go back to the common room. One or two students had already departed. Two prefects hurried in looking agitated and went straight to McGonagall who was already standing with another prefect talking excitedly to Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster rose to his feet and put his wand to his throat. Harry knew what that meant.

"Your full attention, please. I deeply regret having to inform you of a terrible tragedy this evening."

Dumbledore paused, his eyes moving slowly over the sea of faces before him. Everyone was very still and quiet, waiting anxiously to hear what he had to say. They could see by his expression that something very serious had happened.

"One of our students, sadly, has... been killed. We are still assessing the situation but until we have a complete picture, we must take precautions. Will prefects please escort all students back to their common rooms immediately and keep them there until further notice."

Hermione, white-faced, scooped up her notebook and clutched Harry's arm as they were led by Percy and Penelope Clearwater back up to the common room. Hermione kept looking at Harry with an unspoken question in her eyes — and fear. Harry had his own anxieties gnawing away at his insides. _What if it's Ginny!_

The more he thought of the possibility, the worse he felt inside. She had become more important to him over the preceding weeks so faced with the real prospect of her loss, he was all adrift. He tried to think who else was not at dinner. Then it hit him; what if it was Ron who had been killed? He glanced sideways at Hermione. She now looked seriously distressed and began to lean on Harry as they climbed the marble staircase. Before they reached the top, her limbs stiffened and Harry had to lower her to lay on the steps. Hermione appeared to be lifeless.

.

~~~ Bedside Breakdown ~~~

"PERCY! PERCY!" screamed Harry, crouching down beside Hermione. She stared up at him but whether she could see, he could not tell.

"What's wrong with Granger?" Percy glanced at Penny who nodded and took charge to lead the others on while he came back to Harry. He gave Hermione one look then his face paled. "Another one!"

"What is it, Percy?" cried Harry. "What do you mean, 'another one?'"

"The headmaster... only announced one of the victims but he told the prefects there was another — and now Hermione is a third!"

"NO!" bellowed Harry, gripping Percy's arm and shaking it. "Who were the other victims? Tell me, Percy!"

Percy saw a rare look of determination in Harry's face and yielded to it. "Kevin Entwhistle and Luna Lovegood. We must get Miss Granger to the hospital wing immediately."

Harry insisted on carrying Hermione, almost sprinting along behind Percy who was taking great strides ahead of him. She was still completely limp, even her eyes stared fixedly into space.

"Headmaster! We have another one!" cried Percy as they pushed through the doors into the ward. "I fear we are too late."

"This bed here, next to Miss Lovegood's," said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry laid her down but his eyes were on Luna in the next bed. Her hands were rigidly raised to her face as if she had been clawing frantically at something immediately in front of her. Beyond Luna, two beds away, lay Kevin, equally lifeless. Harry sank into a chair, too shocked to speak.

"Poppy, Is she...?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"Most odd," said Pomfrey as she explored Hermione's state with her wand. "Headmaster, if you would..."

Dumbledore cast a spell upon Hermione and looked thoughtfully at the results which meant nothing more to Harry than shimmering colours and shapes which dissipated rapidly. "I agree — very unusual indeed. This is not wizard magic we are dealing with, Poppy."

"No, headmaster, and no doubt you see how she varies from Miss Lovegood."

"Indeed. Most peculiar that two completely different forms of magic produce similarities in their results," said Dumbledore. "Percy, where exactly was Miss Granger attacked?"

"Attacked!" cried Harry, and Dumbledore looked at Harry as if noticing him for the first time. "She couldn't have been! She was with me all through dinner and just collapsed on the way upstairs."

The double doors burst open and McGonagall came through in a rush. "I have Professor Sprout here for you, Headmaster."

"Pomona, I believe you have recently procured some Mandrakes?" said the headmaster.

"That is correct," said Professor Sprout.

"Then as soon as you can bring them to maturity we shall be requiring Mandrake juice for Miss Lovegood. Perhaps you would be so kind as to consult with Professor Snape when the time comes."

"Certainly, Headmaster."

"But what about Hermione!" cried Harry.

Before Dumbledore could reply the doors were flung open once more and Ron entered, his face contorted with anxiety. He took one look at Hermione's body and stricken with grief, he threw himself down to his knees at the side of her bed.

"Calm yourself, Mr Weasley," said Dumbledore, gently. "Death has not yet taken Miss Granger so there may be hope of recovery. Miss Lovegood too, is only Petrified. The question is, why?" He looked closely at Harry's face as if to discern some knowledge therefrom but Harry stared blankly back at him.

"Professor, I swear, I know nothing about what happened!" cried Harry.

"Harry, would you perhaps, examine the object on the cabinet over there for me?" said Dumbledore, with a gesture of his hand.

Harry was surprised by the headmaster's diversion and turned his head slowly. He walked over to the cabinet. "It's Luna's — that is, it's Colin Creevey's old instant camera which he lent to Luna. He persuaded her it would be better than drawing..."

"Better than drawing what, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip and his face paled. "Better than drawing the monster's eggs."

"And the lens covering?"

Harry was too distraught to laugh but made a dry noise of disgust instead. "She said they were seven skins of Screechsnap shoots held on by Spellotape!"

"Very wise magical protection that may help us and may even have weakened Miss Lovegood's Petrification," said Dumbledore. "Harry, that particular object is a Muggle device. Would you know how to get pictures out of it?"

Harry opened the back and waited a minute for the images to develop. Most were unused, three were dark blurs, but the final one... Harry let out a gasp then handed it to the headmaster.

"It's an eye isn't it, sir?"

"It would appear so," nodded Dumbledore, "but of whom or what I cannot tell."

"Luna thought the monster must be an Occamy," said Harry.

"An Occamy? A very intriguing speculation." His attention was drawn to Ron.

Ron had been staring at Hermione ever since he arrived. He tried to hold her hand but it was rigidly clutching her notebook. He prised it gently away and placed it on the bedside cabinet. A piece of paper fell out and he picked it up and tucked it inside the book. Then he gently held her hand. "Hermione, I'm a total prat. I admit it. I'll never pester you again to do my homework. Just don't... die..." A sob escaped his lips and his cheeks were wet. "Please don't die, Hermione..."

"Mr Weasley? What is that?" said Dumbledore.

Ron's eyes were shining as he looked up to see the direction of the headmaster's gaze. "Just her notebook. She was always... She's always scribbling in it." He started sniffling at the memory.

"May I see?"

Ron passed it over and Dumbledore opened it up at the loose sheet. "This looks like your writing, Minerva."

"McGonagall stopped her conversation with Professor Sprout and stepped over to the headmaster. "Miss Granger came to me this morning. She asked if she could search through old student's records. Naturally I refused her."

Dumbledore waited patiently.

"But she persisted, Headmaster! She can be very persistent!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

McGonagall continued in a slightly embarrassed tone, "I agreed I would do the search myself and write down only the results - there was nothing private there! It took but a few minutes."

"No harm done, Minerva. It appears to be merely a list of names. Do you know who they are?"

"Yes, Headmaster. They are the Muggle-borns who were injured when the Chamber of Secrets was opened in nineteen-forty-two."

"And the name she has drawn a ring round? _M. Marrick_?"

McGonagall adjusted her spectacles and inspected the list more closely. "That would be Myrtle Marrick." McGonagall tilted her head as if trying to recollect something. She gasped. "This is the girl who was killed in one of the bathrooms! Her... ghost remains to this day. I wonder if Miss Granger intended to speak with her? And if so, why?"

"Perhaps the answer lies here," said Dumbledore quietly, his gaze upon the opened notebook. "_Runespoor, Basilisk, Occamy, Sea Serpent _— all types of snake, are they not?"

"Does she then suppose the monster from the Chamber of Secrets to be some kind of serpent? Why?"

"Why, indeed?" Dumbledore's gaze once again fell upon Harry who had been listening with interest to the conversation.

"There was water on the floor when Mr Filch's cat died." said Harry. "All the teachers left footprints but they were all near the big message where the cat was found hanging. Nobody was allowed into that corridor afterwards except Mr Filch who tried to clean away the message. But Luna told me she examined the far end of the corridor early the next morning and found the end of a trail of cat paw marks. That must have been where Mrs Norris was actually killed."

"And?" said Dumbledore.

"There was no sign of footprints there," said Harry. "Just the paw prints and some smudges."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Yet, although the creature may have then deposited the body against the wall where we found it, it is unlikely that it could have tied it to the bracket — that was done by human hands, the one controlling the beast." Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps Miss Lovegood was mistaken. The Occamy has, I believe, two limbs. However—"

"Surely we can disregard the sea serpent!" said McGonagall.

"Probably, but not necessarily," mused Dumbledore. "One of moderate size would still be monstrous. Whether it could manoeuvre about on land would need to be verified."

"Certainly the Basilisk can be omitted," said McGonagall. "Its stare would have been fatal, yet neither Lovegood nor Granger were killed."

"Hermione never saw any monster; she was with me," said Harry.

"And possibly Miss Lovegood's ingenious camera modification may explain her survival," said the headmaster. He examined the photograph again. "Poppy, might I trouble you for a bandage?"

Madam Pomfrey summoned a bandage and passed it over to the headmaster who slipped it into a pocket of his voluminous robes.

"Come, Minerva. We do not have much time!" He swept away towards the exit.

"Time? Time for what, Headmaster?" said McGonagall, hurrying after him.

"Time to act before the school is closed down or I am suspended — most likely both." He paused briefly at the door. "Would you come too, please, Harry?" He turned and reached for the door handle.

Harry looked about but he could think of no protest that might excuse him.

"Mr Weasley, you can't stay another minute either," said Madam Pomfrey, as she unstoppered a comfort potion for Hermione.

Dumbledore paused at the threshold with the door half-open and looked back. "Poppy, perhaps Mr Weasley might be allowed to stay... as long as needed? For therapeutic reasons, I mean?"

"Headmaster, Miss Granger might possibly be semi-conscious but she is hardly likely to benefit from therapy at this stage."

"I agree — but I wasn't thinking of Miss Granger. Oh, one last thing, Pomona. In the event that neither of us ever return, would you inform Filius that he is to take charge of Hogwarts? Thank you."

Madam Pomfrey dropped the comfort potion with a loud crash. Dumbledore went out the door followed closely by McGonagall and Harry running to catch up. Matron and Professor Sprout stared after them.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_The footprint thing was, I admit, rather contrived, but it was the best I could come up with!_

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	13. Chamber of Secrets Part 08

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_So far... After Ron & Hermione quarrelled about homework, Harry & Ginny convinced Ron the conflict was because Hermione cares about him, and Ron was filled with remorse. After Harry had consoled Hermione at dinner, another death was announced. Hermione collapsed shortly after and was taken to the hospital wing where Luna Lovegood also lay Petrified. From Hermione's notes, Dumbledore decided to visit the ghost of a Muggle-born girl who was murdered in one of the toilets when the Chamber of Secrets was opened many years before. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 13**

**Chary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets Part 8**

* * *

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~~~ Moaning Myrtle ~~~

As Dumbledore led McGonagall and Harry from the hospital wing, he cast a spell without pausing in his stride. Soon after, Harry heard a rapid whirring and fluttering sound as if a large insect had been chased in through a window by a hungry bird. The headmaster snatched a small photograph out of the air and slipped it into his pocket.

"I believe this is the bathroom, Headmaster," said McGonagall. With a swish of her wand the door opened ahead of them and they hurried inside.

"Miss Marrick, may we have a word in private, please?" announced Dumbledore. His voice echoed authoritatively around the small chamber then slowly faded.

They waited.

Harry was used to ghosts but he took a step back in astonishment when Myrtle Marrick swooped straight at them from out of one of the open cubicles. The girl was rather squat with lanky hair and thick glasses through which she glared directly at the intruders for a moment before she recognised Dumbledore and her face lightened with curiosity.

"Oh, Headmaster! You wish to speak to _me?_"

"I need your advice, Miss Marrick."

"Ooohh!"

"We are still most aggrieved concerning your untimely and unjust demise and will never rest until the culprit is discovered."

Myrtle had spent most of the last fifty years moaning, but, for once, she was speechless.

"Would you be so kind as to tell us how you died?"

Myrtle looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in there. I died in that very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses." Dumbledore shook his head sympathetically and frowned his disapproval.

Reassured by her attentive audience, Myrtle continued, "The stall door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come into the toilet. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking.

"Did you recognise the voice?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, I knew who it was — he was one of those horrible Slytherin boys!" She stamped her foot but it made no sound. "I never knew his name though."

"Would this be the boy?" Dumbledore held up the photograph he had summoned.

Myrtle stared in fascination then nodded her head. "How ever did you know, Professor?"

"We came by some new information so naturally our first thought was to consult you."

"Ooohh!

"After all, he had no right, as a boy, to be in a girl's toilet at all, did he?"

"NO!" cried Myrtle, and her face darkened at the outrage. "So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then — " Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How, exactly?" said Dumbledore.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes."

Dumbledore took out Luna's photograph. "Would they be something like this one?"

Myrtle's eyes seemed to become almost as prominent as the one in the picture. She shuddered and Harry had to hide his amusement at seeing a ghost trembling with fear. She nodded slowly, unable to tear her gaze away from the photograph.

"My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked into space for a few seconds as if she were indulging the terrible moment, then her normal self returned to the fore. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"I'm sure she was, but Miss Marrick, where exactly did you see the eyes?"

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

McGonagall was the nearer so she cast a charm upon the sink. "There are traces of magic here, Albus."

The headmaster cast several spells upon the sink unit and examined it closely. "Very interesting. Tell me, Minerva, what do you make of this engraving here upon the tap?"

McGonagall looked closely. "Why, it's a snake!"

"I think," said Dumbledore, "we have found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

Harry took a couple of steps backward, passing through Myrtle with a cold shudder. She seemed so preoccupied with what Dumbledore was saying that she only protested mildly and rose into the air out of the way.

"But what should we do, Albus?"

Dumbledore paused, looking at the sink thoughtfully. Hovering above him, Myrtle watched without speaking. This was, without doubt, the most interesting event of her years as a ghost and for once, she had nothing to moan about.

"On consideration," said Dumbledore, taking Matron's bandage from a pocket in his robes and gazing directly at Harry over the top of his spectacles, "I think we should do nothing whatsoever."

"Nothing!" cried McGonagall. "But—"

"It is unlikely that the monster can open the Chamber itself or it would surely have done so many times over the years." He handed the bandage to a perplexed McGonagall. "I shan't be needing this after all. My eyes can remain open." He looked upward. "Miss Marrick, again, I must seek your advice."

Moaning Myrtle was enjoying herself. She glided eagerly before the headmaster to listen to what he had to ask.

"Was anyone here in this bathroom on Halloween night during the feast? And again, during this evening's dinner?"

There was a gleam of malice in Myrtle's eyes at the thought of landing someone in trouble. "Yes, headmaster."

"Who, exactly?"

Myrtle paused for dramatic effect, a wicked grin upon her lips, before declaring with great theatricality, "It was Ginny Weasley!"

"NO!" shouted Harry. "You're wrong! It couldn't have been Ginny! It just couldn't have! She can't be the heir of Slytherin!"

"Minerva, I shall be in my office," said Dumbledore. "Would you send Miss Weasley to me as soon as possible, please?"

"NO! It can't be her, Headmaster," cried Harry but Dumbledore and McGonagall had swept out of the bathroom and were hurrying away.

Harry stood in the open doorway watching them go then whirled on Myrtle. "Why did you say it was Ginny!"

Myrtle giggled. "Oh dear, is she not quite what you expected, Harry? Perhaps you should be thinking of changing girlfriends, then?" She fluttered her eyelashes.

Harry let out a deep gasp of stress. He had to sort this out. It was ridiculous to think Ginny could be the heir of Slytherin. The real heir had probably just gone in or come out of the Chamber of Secret while Ginny happened to be in here — perhaps he was in there right now. That was it! He walked to the tap that the headmaster had been examining. McGonagall was right, it was definitely marked with a snake symbol. He bent down to look very closely and turned the tap but nothing happened.

"Oh, you have to ask nicely," simpered Myrtle in his ear. She had been so close behind him he banged his head on the wash basin. He glared at her over his shoulder then began to think of what she had said. It was just a sink. How do you talk to a sink?

"Reveal yourself!" he cried. He paused. "I am the heir of Slytherin! I command you to reveal the way in!" He waved his arms about to emphasise his words.

He heard Myrtle sniggering behind him. She had not had so much fun for a very long time. "It's no use speaking English is it, Harry?"

"You said it was a different language, Myrtle," said Harry. "Can you remember exactly what was said?"

"I don't know do, do I?" said Myrtle crossly.

_Perhaps there's a secret word? There usually is in magic stories,_ thought Harry. _They usually scratch it in blood on a wall backwards or something so you have to work it out._

He looked at the shiny green tiles that covered the walls then back at the pipes around the sink but could see nothing. He looked ever more closely at the snake engraving. _Maybe there is very small lettering hidden in its coils..._ The snake's tiny eye stared unblinkingly back at him.

He became more and more exasperated with it. "OPEN up, damn you!"

At once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry almost fell in, but he steadied himself and peered down. He would have to throw himself down to find out the truth. He would drag out the heir as proof. No matter what happened to himself, he would have to... for Ginny's sake. He steeled himself and stepped to the very brink...

"That's far enough, Harry," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling from the doorway. "I have learnt now all that I need to know. The Chamber will be resealed forever..."

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~~~ Confession and Cure ~~~

Harry was so distraught as they left the bathroom that he almost forgot about Hermione and Luna. He dashed off towards the hospital wing, wondering whether to tell Ron about Ginny. When he entered, Hermione was sitting up but looking as miserable as Moaning Myrtle.

"But I want to go home, Ron. I feel so poorly I just want my mum," Hermione was saying.

"You heard Pomfrey — you'll be better of here until you're completely well."

"I'd feel so much better though, if I were at home," moaned Hermione, then espying Harry approaching she added, "Harry! You must help me! Tell them I have to go home!"

"Ron's right Hermione," said Harry. "You need magical treatment."

He suddenly noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands. Ron saw the direction of his gaze and his cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "I'll erm... I'll just go and fill up the water jug, Hermione."

Harry sank into his vacated chair by Hermione's bed.

"Ron's been wonderful, Harry," she whispered. She spoke as if in a dreamy haze.

Harry gaped at her. "He... has?"

"I couldn't move for a long while but—"

"You were awake! Matron thought you might be!"

"Yes. I don't think he knew. Please don't tell him."

"What'd he say?"

Now Hermione blushed and she shook her head. "Do you think they might let him take me home?"

Harry sighed. Straining his neck upwards to look over Hermione and beyond Luna's static form, he could see Kevin's body had been removed at last. There was a sudden soft pop, Hermione gave a tiny squeal, and Harry looked back down at his side.

"Dobby! What are you doing here!"

The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

"Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"

"How did you know I missed the train?"

Dobby's lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

"It was you!" he said slowly. "You stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

"Indeed yes, sir," said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward" — he showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers — "but Dobby didn't care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way!"

He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head. Hermione was looking at the house-elf in astonishment.

"Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master's dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir..."

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his treacle tart would be enough to make— "

"Your tart?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you mean, your tart? You tried to poison me? To kill me!"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better you feel ill and long for home, than remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter sick enough to be sent home!"

"Well it back-fired didn't it, Dobby!" said Harry angrily. "Hermione ate the treacle tart and now look at her!"

"No, Harry," persisted Hermione, "I really do want to go home more than anything!"

"Why, Dobby!"

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto the scruffy, ripped pillowcase he wore as a garment. "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir..."

Hermione was crying now. Tears poured from her eyes at the elf's plight. "I think all the elves would be freed if I could just get home to sort it out."

Ron returned with the jug of water and Harry immediately moved so he could sit down. "What's wrong with her, Harry? Do you think we should try to get her home?"

"Yes, yes, Ron!" Hermione cried, almost knocking the water jug out of his hand. "Everything will be wonderful if I could only go home."

Harry stared at her. "You've enchanted her, Dobby, haven't you!" He glared at the elf. "You bewitched the tart to make her — or rather, me — want to return home!"

Dobby froze, horror-struck, then tried to wrestle the jug from Ron's hands, slopping water over the floor, muttering to himself, "Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby... Dobby is very miserable to have harmed one of Harry Potter's friends."

Ron put the jug back on the bedside cabinet and clutched at Hermione's hand once again, wrapping it in both of his.

"Can you unharm her Dobby? Can you fix the spell?" cried Harry.

"Don't worry, Hermione," said Ron. "I promise I'll take you home."

Dobby snapped his fingers. "Dobby has fixed it, sir."

"Home? Why would I want to go home, Ron?" said Hermione. "I feel fine."

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~~~ Tom Riddle's Diary ~~~

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat alone in the darkened common room waiting anxiously for news of Ginny. Everyone else had gone to bed; it was very late and the three of them were filled with foreboding. Ron had a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders and her hand rested upon his.

"Tell us again, Harry," said Ron. "What exactly did Myrtle say? It couldn't have been Ginny."

Harry was saved the task of repeating himself for at that moment the portrait hole opened and Ginny appeared, looking very distressed, her face dark-streaked with old tears.

Hermione made a movement to stand up but Harry was there first, enveloping Ginny in his arms and uncaring about the stare from Ron. She began to sob. "N- not, g- going expel me, Harry. Not my f- fault."

"Course not. Course it's not your fault, Ginny," he said, soothingly.

"It was my d- diary." She twisted towards Hermione and Harry released her.

"You were right, Hermione. I should have taken it to P- Professor McGonagall but I forgot."

"You knew about this!" said Harry to Hermione.

"Ginny, what did the headmaster say?" said Hermione.

"It w- was Tom Riddle. He is You-know-who! He is the heir of Slytherin. It was his diary. We think Mr Malfoy slipped it into my cauldron in the bookshop. Riddle possessed me. He made me open the Chamber. I didn't understand what was going on. I'm s- sorry!"

Ron looked aghast. "But, at least—"

"Where is the diary, now, Ginny?" said Hermione. She looked very worried. Ron hugged her closer to his side.

"Professor Dumbledore kept it. He said he knows what it is and he'll find a way to destroy it."

"Are you safe though, Ginny?" said Harry. "Or can it still affect you?"

"No, only when I wrote in it," said Ginny. "Oh, Harry! I hardly wrote in it again after we..." She broke off and glanced guiltily at Ron.

"After we what?" glared Ron.

Harry looked at Ron who was still holding Hermione close. Harry took Ginny's hand and looked him squarely in the eye. "Ginny's my girlfriend now, Ron," then he added, "just like Hermione is yours."

Startled, and flush-faced, Ron spluttered as if his anger was about to explode through his outer shock but Hermione was beaming. She seemed to know exactly what to do. Whatever Ron had said earlier that had encouraged her, Harry did not know, but she kissed Ron full on the mouth. That shut him up. He never complained about Harry and Ginny after that.

Harry wondered what was happening to himself; he could have gotten into serious trouble. Perhaps it was Ginny's influence, he thought. She gave his hand a little squeeze and then he knew it was.

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~~~ The Hatchling ~~~

Luna recovered rapidly without the need of Mandrake juice and within a week had rejoined her friends in the common room. She was very sad for a while about Kevin but still insisted it was an Occamy that had flown at them and bitten them both in one gigantic bite.

Neville tried to console her but he could see it would take time. He patted her rather nervously on the arm.

"Perhaps," said Hermione, trying to choose her words carefully, "you shouldn't, you know, try to lead people on so much."

Luna stared with a sorrowful expression at Hermione. "It was Kevin who came to me. It was his plan all along. Why'd you think I insisted all those house points go to Ravenclaw? I don't know the reason he particularly wanted me to help him though."

"I do," said Neville, and he gave her a hug — then afterwards flushed at his audacity.

Over the following months, Harry did once get to play Seeker in a proper house match against Slytherin — though the Gryffindor team still lost. Oliver Wood complained that Harry hadn't been aggressive enough. Ron growled sarcastically to Hermione afterwards that Harry 'just didn't want to cause a fuss.'

Ginny appeared to be over her ordeal and her part in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets was kept secret from the rest of the school — as was her relationship with Harry. They still kept out of sight when they needed a kiss and a cuddle. And Ron, though at times he looked at them rather penetratingly, didn't complain when he saw them chatting together.

"Ron, just think of Ginny and me as good friends," whispered Harry, with a sideways wink at Ginny.

As the weather improved with the approach of summer, the friends spent time together by the lake, lazing away on the lawns or finishing homework. Ron had been as good as his word and never bothered Hermione again to copy her essays. Whatever else he had confessed to her while she had been unable to respond in the hospital, neither of them would ever reveal. Meanwhile, Ginny often persuaded Neville to accompany them if Luna did too and they seemed to enjoy each other's company and even wandered off together deep in animated conversation. The others watched as they poked a long stick into the lake to stir up weeds. Both had abandoned their school robes to the grass and kicked off their shoes to freshen their toes at the water's edge.

"There they go again," said Ron.

"They're just after water plants or tadpoles or something," said Harry. "Anything that Blibbers, I guess."

"No, Hagrid and Dumbledore I mean, off into the Forest once more. Dumbledore's carrying a big stick too — too big for a wand."

Hermione lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the dazzling sun. Dumbledore had stopped to talk to Luna and Neville and had crouched down to feel the cool water that they were exploring. As he stood up and proceeded on his way with Hagrid, something glittered at his side in the bright sunshine.

"That's a sword; probably for protection I would think," said Hermione. "They must be raising something too nasty to raise anywhere but deep within the Forest. Why'd you think they borrowed Neville's toad at Christmas? And that huge cage at Easter?"

Ron snorted. "They're breeding giant toads? Come off it, Hermione!"

She swatted him on the head with a small book she was reading. "You never did read my notebook properly did you?"

"I was too busy worrying about you, wasn't I?"

Harry and Ginny exchanged smirks while Hermione kissed Ron on the cheek. "What do you get if a toad hatches a chicken's egg?" she said.

"Erm... I dunno. A Choad? A Token?"

"Not if it happens on a moonless night and you know the right enchantments."

"What are you on about?"

"What's slithery like a toad but large and very venomous, Ron?"

"A conger eel working for the Daily Prophet?" murmured Harry. Abruptly his eyes widened and he sat bolt upright, unseating Ginny who had been resting against him. "Hermione! You're not serious?"

"Yes, it's a Basilisk alright."

Now it was Ron's turn to sit up. "You're mental. You're completely Barking mad! Why would they—"

"It's obvious isn't it? Basilisk venom is very potent. What dark object do we know that is so difficult to destroy that even the headmaster didn't know how?"

"My diary!" cried Ginny.

"Precisely."

"But why don't they just use the Basilisk that's still locked in the Chamber of Secrets?" said Harry.

"Only the heir of Slytherin can control it, Harry. Anyway, it would need a parselmouth to even open the Chamber."

"No, I reckon anyone can open it," said Harry. "I just told it to open and it opened. Mind you, I swore at it to show it who's boss! What's a parselmouth anyway?"

"Someone who can talk to snakes," said Ron.

"I've never even seen a live snake," said Harry, morosely. "Dudley told me about one once when they went to the zoo. He often taunted me about stuff they'd done — on holidays and suchlike: the Lake District, Big Ben, a soccer match and so on. I just pretended I wasn't interested."

"So they locked you in your cupboard all day?" said Ron.

"THEY WHAT!" shrieked Ginny. She looked closely at Harry.

"Nothing — it's just a Muggle expression," said Harry. "It means erm... you can't go out the house. You're grounded."

"Grounded? Like spices? Crushed up!"

"No, that's another Muggle phrase — means I can't take off, fly," said Harry, then seeing Ginny's next question forming on her lips he added hastily, "Muggle aeroplane pilots I mean. If they're grounded they're not allowed to fly."

"Oh, Harry! I didn't know you could fly a Muggle airy plane!" said Ginny, eyes round with admiration. Harry thought he should quit while he was ahead.

"So," he said, turning quickly back to Hermione who had been smiling at their exchange, "you figured all that out just by watching those two going back and forth into the Forest with a toad?"

"Er... No, actually the headmaster told me they were going to breed a Basilisk a long while ago," she said with a big grin. "I think he'll feed the diary to it one day. I doubt it needs to grow that much actually; venom is venom after all. He said he couldn't possibly describe how important it was finding this diary intact and still cursed."

"He said that?" said Ginny. "Why?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

"Do you think it's anything to do with You-know-who?" said Harry.

"Maybe."

"Did he actually say so, though?" Harry flung a small stone into the water.

"No."

"And you can't figure it out from say, the ripples on the lake and the shape of a leaf on the beech tree behind us?"

"No, Harry, I'm not that clever," she laughed. "Don't tell me you're actually getting bothered about who killed your— Omigod! You are!" She glanced back and forth between Ginny and Harry. Harry looked flustered and went off to see what Neville and Luna had found. Hermione and Ginny smilingly exchanged a mountain of glorious ideas using only wide-eye expressions and mouthing of words. Ron looked on perplexed.

"Summer's coming, Ron; change is in the air. Everything is growing — and so must we."

"Hey, you three!" shouted Harry. Luna was dancing in the shallows with excitement and Neville too, kicking up swirls of water that sparkled in the hot sun. "Come and see what Luna's found! Come and see! You won't believe what she's found!"

They gathered themselves up and ran across. Luna was holding a strand of dark green that ribboned down to her feet. "See!" She pointed to its surface. A single tiny pearl was attached to the leaf. "It's an Occamy egg. I've always wanted to find one!"

Hermione snorted. "It's far too small; probably a bit of frogspawn."

Luna stamped her foot and an enormous splash drenched everyone. "It is NOT frogspawn. It's an Occamy egg."

"But the few that there are exist only in warmer countries!" said Hermione.

"Well, this one must know we are going to have a hot summer because it's definitely an Occamy egg so it's found its way here somehow!"

"And you're definitely wrong about it anyway!" cried Hermione. "Because it does have legs — two of them — I looked it up in a book!" Hermione threw up her hands in disgust and turned away looking for inspiration and muttering to herself under her breath, "I mean, what are the odds of finding an Occamy egg right where she was looking?"

Far away, approaching the very edge of the Forest, Dumbledore paused and looked back. Such was the distance and the sun so bright that Hermione could not be certain, but she thought she saw his eyes twinkle.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_What happened to Gilderoy Lockhart? Not a lot. He's still there teaching DADA. Will he be there next year? You'll have to wait and see._

_Next chapter in this Years of Reluctance story begins Book 3. Don't fail to miss Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, coming very soon to a screen near you._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Chamber of Secrets (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	14. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 01

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_So far... Professor Dumbledore has secured Tom Riddle's diary intact from Ginny without any need to enter the Chamber of Secrets. He plans to destroy the diary now he has learned its secret. Ginny is safe but Harry is alone during the summer holidays. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 14**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 1**

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~~~ Take It Lying Down ~~~

At almost thirteen years of age, Harry Potter was getting too tall to lie down full-stretch in his cupboard and he felt this very strongly after a week locked in it. His friend Ron had tried to telephone him and this was Harry's punishment for divulging the Dursley's telephone to 'one of your lot,' as his furious uncle put it. Nor did his aches and pains relent when he was finally released. Dudley kept making jokes about applying for a free bus pass as Harry hobbled around for the first hour, bent over like an old man. Harry grimaced and resigned himself to enduring both the discomfort and the jibes and catching up on the accumulation of household tasks that were awaiting him.

As he swept the garden path that sunny afternoon he paused to mop his sweating brow with the back of his sleeve. He looked up. Dudley was sitting on his bike, lounged against the fence to emphasise _he_ had no irksome chores to perform; he could relax and scoff the remains of a packet of biscuits filched from the pantry. Harry could see from Dudley's face-twisting that he was thinking hard to come up with some new insult while also trying to focus on the snack.

"When I'm old enough and inherit this house then I'll keep you locked up permanently — like a freak animal which is what you are," said Dudley, sputtering biscuit crumbs out of his mouth. "I'll take you for walks on a dog leash but you'll have to beg first."

"I won't—" Harry stopped, surprised by what he had been about to say. He began to employ the yard brush more vigorously to work away from his cousin.

"You won't what!" snapped Dudley, legging his bike along to keep up. The fence swayed slightly against his stodgy mass.

"I won't be here, Dudley." And Harry, for the first time in his short life, realised it was true. When he was younger he had not considered any other kind of existence, but Hogwarts had changed all that. "Long before your parents die, I'll be gone."

"Die? What do you mean?" The bicycle teetered. Dudley's left foot slipped off the bicycle pedal and slammed down hard on the paving slabs that ran the length of the fence. He was struggling with the concept of his parents' death as if he had not considered it as a real, inevitable fact at some time in the future.

"You just said when you inherit this house," said Harry. "Where d'you think they will be? And me? They'll be dead and I'll have moved far away long before then. At the first opportunity actually."

Dudley stared at Harry. His mum and dad and Harry were the pillars of his existence — his parents to support him from above, and Harry for him to lean on below and measure his superiority against.

Harry dodged into the potting shed, replaced the broom, and took the key from where it was hanging on a rusty nail, ready to lock up. He stopped still and listened. The bicycle had crashed to the ground outside. Through the grimy window, he watched Dudley meandering back to the house as if in a daze. Harry decided to wait fifteen minutes before going back inside. He knew Dudley. A quarter of an hour was more than enough for him to get diverted by the television or a game on his PlayStation, then matters as seriously taxing to contemplate as life, death, and the future, would be long forgotten.

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~~~ Messages From Afar ~~~

A pigeon fluttered down beside the fallen bike and waddled cautiously towards the discarded biscuit wrapper. Harry peered up at the blue sky for a few moments then locked the shed door. At least now he was out of the cupboard he would be able to exchange owls with his friends. Harry was longing to be invited to The Burrow to stay for a week or two; it had seemed such a long time since he had seen Ginny. It wasn't so much that he could not quite see her face clearly in his thoughts as that because she was so far away he could not help but feel distanced from her emotionally. If he could just see her once then that would fix everything he felt sure.

But his hopes were crushed within days. Hermione was on vacation in France with her parents. Ron, meanwhile, informed him that his father had won the Daily Prophet prize draw and the Weasleys were holidaying in Egypt. Harry stared in disbelief at the newspaper clipping of them standing in front of a pyramid and waving at him. Ginny seemed to be waving the most vigorously, but perhaps it only seemed that way to him, he thought, because she was the only one in the picture he looked at for any length of time. He pinned the clipping up inside his cupboard so Ginny was just in line with his eyes when he laid back.

Still, at least he had been asked if he might meet them in London near the end of the holiday to buy books for the coming school year. He hoped Ginny would come. Their affection had seemed so real last year but deprived of contact, his feelings had become mixed up and he wanted to resolve and confirm them. The magical community and everyone in it seemed surreal to him, a fantasy he had only imagined, obscured by the dull drudgery of the real world. He stepped out from the cupboard under the stairs and prepared to help make the sandwiches for teatime.

"Where's the oatmeal cookies gone!" cried Aunt Petunia from the pantry.

"Harry ate 'em the other day while he was sweeping up outside," said Dudley.

"WHAT!" Petunia's head poked out from behind the pantry door and glared at Harry. "Just like your rotten father — a common thief!" She pretended to sniffle emotionally but Harry wasn't fooled. "All the trouble we go to give you a home and this is how you treat us..." She dabbed at her eyes with a screwed-up tissue retrieved from her sleeve.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia," said Harry, resignedly. He well knew that to challenge the accusation would only make things worse.

"Right, no tea and sandwiches for you today! After you've made them for us you can stand by the sink ready to do the dishes when we've finished eating."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

This was his normal reality. Yet he was comforted by his realisation that it was not forever and that one day he would leave Privet Drive and the Dursleys then never return. He need only endure one hour at a time...

Two days later, a most curious invitation came with a cute little grey-white owl that sat almost motionless outside on the kitchen window ledge like a pottery figure. It was from Luna and she positively insisted he come and see her baby. Harry almost fell off his chair in surprise especially when, attached to the back of the parchment, he found a photograph of her and Neville. Like Ginny, they were waving madly and grinning. Behind them was the strangest house that Harry had ever seen — stranger even than The Burrow. It was a tall dark tower with crenellated parapets like a castle. Luna had marked it 'Home' with her quill. She had also written 'Neville' above Neville, and 'Me' above herself as if he might confuse them with each other. But then she had also marked the chimney and a tree and even a dot in the sky. And what was that about a baby? Did she mean a new baby sister? Harry turned his gaze back to her message in case he had misread it.

_You absolutely MUST come and spend the day with us, Harry because it will be unforgettable! Squeegee will come for you tomorrow morning at nine precisely. Hope to see you then! _

_Your friends, Luna and Neville._

Harry frowned. He didn't even know where they lived nor how to get there. And what would Uncle Vernon say? And who was Squeegee? Harry felt he was bound to be dressed oddly with a name like that. Imagine if tomorrow he turned up on the doorstep? Well, it would be a Thursday. Aunt Petunia usually went to the supermarket on Thursday afternoons without him and, during the holidays, Dudley went with her. With Uncle Vernon leaving for work at about half past eight, Harry often went for a long walk in the morning so he would have a fairly Dursley-free day. Suppose he waited outside at nine o'clock? Aunt Petunia and Dudley might never see Squeegee if they didn't look out of the window at the wrong moment.

It was too risky. What if he was as big as Hagrid? Or as tiny as Flitwick dressed in a pink pyjama top and sky blue trousers? He had noticed wizards had strange ideas about Muggle attire. The thought of the commotion that might be stirred up decided him against it. He reached for his quill.

_Dear Luna and Neville, _

_I am so happy for you both but I regret I cannot escape (he heavily crossed out 'escape') get away this summer but I wish you well and look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts in September._

He wondered if they would be able to return to Hogwarts with a new baby at home so he crossed that out too and put 'when possible.' But written over the crossing out this was unreadable so he crossed it out even more heavily until his quill came through the parchment on the other side. Now it made no sense at all and sounded like he would be seeing them anyway.

He sighed and opened the window. The owl rotated its white head and looked at him.

"This is for Luna," he said. Harry attached his message and the bird flapped upwards out of sight.

Another interesting piece of news came by owl from Hogwarts. When he returned there he would be a third-year and third-years were permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. That night he lay on his back with his knees up daydreaming of sitting with Ginny in a café and having a meal together — just the two of them. Then his bubble burst. Ginny would not be old enough to go for another year. He also needed his uncle to sign a permission form and the Dursleys never gave him anything if they could help it. Harry rolled over and banged his elbow on the side of the cupboard. It seemed as if the world was closing in on him.

But an opportunity arose at breakfast the next morning. His Uncle Vernon said that his sister Marge was coming to stay all next week. Harry groaned inwardly; his Aunt Marge liked to provoke him at every opportunity and last year, the sun shining through the kitchen window onto Harry's glasses had made it seem he was glaring at her, resulting in him having to tidy up the garden shrubs and bushes for three days with a pair of rusty old scissors as punishment.

Mr Dursley was just leaving for work so Harry had to think quickly. "Uncle Vernon, I promise I won't be so bad-tempered this year — you can lock me in my cupboard for a week if you like."

"You'd like that wouldn't you, boy?" snarled his uncle as he opened the front door. "So you can get out of doing the washing up? No, I think we'll let you out to do the cooking and cleaning, but the rest of the time I'll permit you to stay in your cupboard. But make sure you keep quiet in there — or else!" He raised his fist menacingly then added, "And get rid of that ruddy pigeon!" He slammed the door in Harry's face.

Harry walked back to the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face. Dudley guffawed with laughter and pointed at the window. Harry peered out. Luna's owl was back — or had it been there all night? The torn, inky parchment certainly looked like his.

He didn't fancy talking to the bird with the Dursleys listening in so he went outside into the back garden to check.

"Are you waiting to go with Squeegee and me because I'm not going," said Harry then added in exasperation, "That was the whole point of the message!"

He looked at his watch. It was ten to nine. He definitely did not want to be around when Squeegee arrived. He opened the back door a little and popped his head inside. "I'm off for a walk then. See you later."

Aunt Petunia clamped her lips together and glared at him but Harry closed the door before she could think of some household chore to spoil his day.

Harry walked to the back gate. Luna's owl flew past him and perched upon it slightly precariously.

"You can't come with me. Aren't you supposed to wait for Squeegee?"

The owl fluttered its wings, almost unbalancing itself.

"Do you know this Squeegee? What is—?"

Harry sighed. If only owls could talk he thought to himself; even sign language would help. Harry's jaw dropped. The owl was fluttering its wings excitedly. Was that a 'yes?' thought Harry.

"So, you _do_ know Squeegee?"

He looked at his watch. He had to run or he would be meeting Squeegee himself any minute. He reached for the gate latch but Luna's owl nipped at his fingers and fluttered its wings even more fiercely.

"Squeegee?" said Harry, dumbly. The creature calmed down. "You're Squeegee?" A little flutter of wings suggested agreement.

"Fine! So I'm supposed to ride you to Luna's?" he said with heavy sarcasm. There was another little flutter.

Harry gawped at the bird. Was this Luna's idea of a joke? Perhaps it was one of her Blibbering shrinking gigantic owls? He looked more closely. The owl wore a tiny leather strap around its neck almost, it seemed to Harry, like a horse's collar. That was it! He had to ride this giant owl! He glanced back at the house. Nobody was looking out. Over the gate too, the street at the top of the little alleyway appeared to be very quiet. He looked at his watch again. One minute to nine and the owl showed no sign of transforming. What if it became as big as an elephant? There would not be time to mount the creature if it flew off exactly at nine!

He looked around desperately for Uncle Vernon's stepladder but it was likely in the shed and the shed, as usual, was locked. Now there was only thirty seconds left. He had to be ready the moment the owl transfigured! He looked desperately at his watch. Ten seconds, nine, eight... then he had a sudden inspiration.

He seized the owl by its collar and tried to swing his leg over its little back so he would be ready. The owl fluttered like it was demented and made a screeching noise. The door over their neighbours' fence opened and the top of a head appeared approaching their fence. Harry looked down at the little owl struggling between his legs and realised this would be the biggest commotion he had ever caused if the neighbour saw the owl grow into an enormous monster and take off with him on its back!

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~~~ Scribbles ~~~

Something horrible happened: Harry felt as though this 'something' grabbed inside his stomach and jerked him forward. His feet left the ground; he was speeding forward in a howling wind amidst swirling colours. The owl trapped between his legs was accelerating him onward like a giant bungee cord and then — his feet hit the ground almost squishing the poor bird betwixt his thighs but he managed to stay upright. The owl had given up squawking and there was silence for a moment or two then a sudden explosion of noise nearby. He looked up. Luna and Neville, convulsed and shrieking with laughter, eyes streaming, and faces screwed up tight, were pointing at him.

"Th- that's ... not ... h- how you use a P- Portkey, Harry!" Neville managed to splutter. Luna was rolling on the grass now, clutching her sides. Harry's face was crimson as he extracted the ruffled-up creature and it flew off with a huff towards the tall tower he now saw silhouetted against the morning sun.

"What!"

"A P- portkey!" Neville beamed with delight like the sun. "You only need to t- touch the collar, not ride the owl!"

"I know what a Portkey is, but how was I supposed to know the collar was one?" snapped Harry rather grumpily.

"I wr- wrote instructions on the ph- photograph!" chortled Luna, struggled to her feet then falling over again — deliberately, Harry thought.

He pulled her message out from his pocket and looked at the picture closely. Then he saw it; in minute letters against the dot in the sky were the words 'Squeegee's collar is Portkey.'"

"Never mind, Harry," grinned Neville. "At least you didn't turn up at Hogwarts like that," which started another round of grass-rolling and shrieks from Luna.

As they approached the tower, a man appeared cloaked in whites and yellows and pale pastel reds that were never quite pink and was embracing Harry before he had recovered from his humiliation.

"So, Harry Potter at last," he chuckled, shaking his fluffy white hair. A triangular medallion hung from his throat and the single earring he wore looked much the same as Harry had seen Luna wearing. The reason was made clearer by the thick vines fruiting upon the dark wall.

"Dirigibles," said Luna, as if that explained them. "Don't worry, these plums are not ripe enough to rise yet. This is my daddy and he's lost his hat."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Lovegood," said Harry. "Sorry about your hat."

"I'll put the kettle on," said Mr Lovegood.

"He loses it ten times a day," said Luna. "It'll be on the mantelshelf, I'm sure. Come and look at Scribbles."

She grabbed his arm and, with Neville tagging along happily behind, led him through a cluttered circular kitchen, around a central spiral staircase, then out of the back door, leaving behind a variety of odours that would have seemed very alien in Aunt Petunia's antiseptic cuisine. A muddy area before a small pond seemed to writhe and what seemed to Harry at first to be an eel wriggled towards them from it. As it did so, the creature's head arched up, beak-like, and it stretched out large fins from its side which it began to soggily flap as if they were wings. It was the filthiest, ugliest creature that Harry had ever seen.

"Isn't she beautiful?" said Luna. "Of course, she's just a baby and still likes to wallow but one day she'll—"

"Luna!" exploded Harry, "What is that?" The creature had suddenly extended two stalk-like legs and was strutting inquisitively around him, it's long body snaking away behind it to drag across the grass.

"Why, Scribbles is an Occamy, of course!" smiled Luna.

Harry laughed. "So it _was_ an Occamy egg you found last term, after all!"

Luna looked puzzled. "Of course it was. Don't you remember I said so?"

"And it has legs AND it can slither! You were right, Luna!"

Luna looked even more puzzled and a little disappointed. "Do you think I make up things, Harry?"

Neville exchanged grins with Harry. "Definitely not," said Harry — and Neville echoed his words.

Her head tilted on one side while she thought about that.

"So..." said Harry, in an attempt to redirect their chat, "Did you call it Scribbles because when it squirms through the mud it leaves marks like scribbles?"

"No... I called it Scribbles because I like the name Scribbles. Anything with lots of B's in it is good, don't you think? Like jelly wobbles or soap bubbles or babbling nibble dribbles."

Abruptly, the creature shook itself and most of the dark gloop spattered away revealing colourful feathers which she spread luxuriantly in the warm air to dry.

"She's lovely," said Harry, crouching forward to admire her crest whose colours were scintillating as she flexed it. "Hello Scribbles!"

"Pleasssed to meet you, Harry," hissed Scribbles.

Harry rolled backwards onto his behind and half another turn in surprise. He scrambled back up. "You can talk!"

"Of courssse I can, I'm two monthsss old now!" said the Occamy, fluttering its wings in indignation.

"What are you doing, Harry?" said Luna.

"You have real wings!" said Harry to the Occamy. "I thought they were fins."

"Well how am I sssupposssed to fly without wingsss?" retorted the creature, still slightly miffed by Harry's ignorance.

"No offence meant, Scribbles."

"Harry, you're a Parselmouth!" said Neville, who had taken some time to get over his own shock.

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

"You can speak Parseltongue! You can talk to snakes!"

"I am no common sssserpent!" huffed the Occamy, ruffling its bright feathers.

"Oh! You must teach me, Harry," squealed Luna, clapping her hands with delight.

"We're speaking a different language, Scribbles?" said Harry.

"No, thissss is my ussssual way of sssspeaking," hissed Scribbles and it fluttered off across the grass as if attempting to take off.

"She won't be able to fly for a long while, Daddy says," said Luna. "They have to learn to control their magic, you see, like we do."

Harry had no idea how to teach Luna a language he wasn't even aware he was speaking until she suggested he say simple things to Scribbles then tell Luna what he said and what the reply meant. By this means, by the middle of the afternoon, she was able to speak and understand several phrases with the Occamy. In turn, Scribbles seemed to like speaking to Luna better than with Harry.

"Harry, what's Parseltongue for 'We'll be best friends?'"

"She doesn't regard you as a friend, Luna," said Harry, looking at her expression.

"She doesn't?" said Luna, disappointedly.

"No, she told me you're her mother-protector — you hatched her after all — and that's why she often follows you everywhere. She's devoted to you."

"Oh, that's really nice!" Luna looked quite thrilled.

"Luna?" said Harry, as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Where's _your_ mother?"

Over her shoulder, Neville was waving frantically at Harry, his eyes wild, his head shaking, and mouthing one word that could only be, "Dead!"

"Oh, didn't you know? She's dead," said Luna simply. "She was a very unusual witch but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."

"I'm really sorry," Harry mumbled. "I didn't—"

"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"

"Er — isn't it?" said Harry, uncertainly.

"Of course not." She shook her head in disbelief at Harry's ignorance. "Come on, let's have tea then we can play."

She skipped off towards the house and Harry and Neville followed.

In the early evening sunshine, Luna dragged a big cardboard box outside with games in it. They found Mr Lovegood's hat inside and wizard chess with which they entertained themselves for an hour or two. One of the black pawns was missing. Luna said it was always running off and hiding because the others picked on it. Luna substituted a stone which she insisted on marking with a 'P' so they wouldn't get it mixed up. Harry managed better than he ever did against Ron. Neville was rather hopeless and sometimes Harry thought he was letting Luna win. But that was difficult because Luna kept arguing with her pieces when they wouldn't go where she told them.

"Knights don't move like that, Luna," laughed Harry.

"I know, I keep telling them but they just can't seem to understand how to move in a straight line!" she sighed.

When it was time to leave, Squeegee the owl was reluctant to let Harry within fifty feet of her until Luna finally persuaded her that Harry's first trip had been made in ignorance. Even then, the bird waited until the final moment before flying close enough for Harry to touch her collar.

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~~~ Static ~~~

The following week was a miserable one for Harry. Aunt Marge was especially abusive to him but he kept his mouth shut despite her insults and after her departure on the Saturday, he waited for the right moment.

An opportunity came, after a particularly good dinner one evening. While his uncle was in a very self-satisfied sort of a mood, Harry made his bid.

"Uncle, about this form for Hogsmeade..."

"What are you on about? Can't you see I'm resting?" Uncle Vernon wriggled himself deeper into his favourite chair and put his feet up on the hearth. Dudley's ears pricked up and he almost tore his attention away from a televised broadcast about how to cope with different forms of bullying. He seemed to be making notes.

"Remember, I promised to be nice to Aunt Marge if you would sign it?"

"What if you did?"

"But you..."

"But I what, boy!"

"I thought we agreed you'd sign it."

"Thought wrong then didn't you? Getting a bit uppity aren't you?"

"Sorry, uncle." Harry's heart sank; he had just remembered that his uncle had slammed the door in his face the other day before Harry had had a chance to ask him.

"Hey! That's a great idea!" Dudley shouted at the TV presenter. "Mum, how do you spell 'static 'lectricity?'"

Inspired by the new ideas he had obtained from watching television, Dudley now replaced Aunt Marge in making Harry's life unpleasant. Apart from getting an electric shock every time he opened his cupboard door, his cousin was trying some new boxing manoeuvres and, of course, Harry was the target as usual in his practice sessions. Encouraged by his success with Draco, Harry did not hold back and landed a half-decent punch on Dudley's jaw. But Dudley was twice as gross as Draco and practised fighting a lot. Thwack! Harry staggered away before his blows and banged the back of his head on the wall before he slid down to avoid further punishment.

"Good one, Harry! I didn't know you had it in you!" Dudley seemed delighted by Harry's attack. "But you've got to be ready for the counter-punch. Let's try that again!"

Harry groaned. What had he been thinking? It seemed as he got older that it was becoming more difficult to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. Now he often found himself entangled in trouble whether at home or at school.

_Still,_ he thought to himself as he dodged one of Dudley's double jabs, _life can't get any worse, can it?_

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_There have been some interesting observations about relationships that are worth answering publicly. Firstly, I never planned any relationships in my original outline plans; I only focused on seeing if the main storyline could resolve itself with 'Chary' and Voldemort without Harry having to go looking for trouble. Once I'd visualised Chary's character then Harry/Ginny seemed to happen naturally as I wrote because Ginny always had a crush on him and 'Chary' was more aware of and concerned about not causing distress to anyone than the original Harry so he went along with it and it grew from there as described._

_Similarly, Chary resolved to help Ron/Hermione (here I admit I didn't fancy another story with those two in denial for three or four books!) Now, in the original books, Ron first began showing signs of romantic interest in Hermione in their second year; he was irritated by her crush on Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Gilderoy Lockhart, became so angry that Draco Malfoy called her a "Mudblood" that he tried to hex him, and was even more upset than Harry when she became one of the victims of the Basilisk._

_So, in the original books the feelings of three of them were begun early with Harry being the odd one out. So, I think I'm being faithful to canon — modified only by the change in Harry who almost unwittingly brings everyone together earlier._

_Regarding the Astronomy Tower — that should not be read as a physically passionate kiss in the adult sense but innocent affection being shared. Harry has never known affection before while Ginny has been rather isolated within a family of brothers. They were both just kids touching lips and hugging one another — happy in a special togetherness. Hope that was clear._

_As for Luna and Neville, I don't know that they are anything more than friends. Dunno if that will change. These characters have a life of their own! Little rascals - especially that Luna!_

_Now Chary's relationship to Ron. In real life friendships mostly form by circumstances, not careful planning and selection. Plenty of friends are somewhat unalike in their outlook and Ron is not extremely different to Chary in the same way that say, Draco is. The twins brought Ron and Harry together. They would then likely sit together in class. They share the same dorm with adjacent sleeping. They can hardly ignore one another. Now, whereas the original Harry regards Ron as his best mate who he has fun with and Hermione 'only' as a kind of sister-figure though not his first choice to hang out with, 'Chary' is with Ginny more and Ron with Hermione so there is a difference in their relationship. But Chary is changing anyway..._

_As for why did Harry lose Dudley's bedroom? He never had it. Vernon never considered such a thing. In the original book he only gave Harry the bedroom because letters were arriving addressed to the 'cupboard under the stairs' and he was worried Harry might complain to the magical authorities. But in my fic, Vernon was used to 'Chary' being obedient and passive so he wasn't bothered. I only put the passage in where Harry is sent to tidy up the bedroom to draw attention to the fact that Harry never gets the bedroom. In my story, sleeping on the floor is symbolic of Chary's character._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	15. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 02

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_So far... With his friends away on holiday, Harry, now thirteen, endures a lonely summer with the Dursleys and his long isolation has confused his feelings about Ginny. But he did, at least, enjoy one fun day with Luna and Neville and met Scribbles, Luna's Occamy, part-snake, part-bird. From this experience he learns he can speak to snakes and teaches Luna a few phrases too. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 15**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 2**

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~~~ Strange News ~~~

As the end of summer drew nearer, Harry had still not heard anything further from any of his companions so he had had a miserable time of it. He wasn't even sure if he was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. He wanted to see his friends but at the same time he felt like moping away forever in his cupboard. What would Ginny think of him after this long separation?

He took to reading through old owl messages and that's what reminded him: he was supposed to meet Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley the very next day! He had completely forgotten he had new schoolbooks to buy.

"Uncle Vernon," he began cautiously as his uncle stood drinking a cup of tea and surveying his lawn through the window.

"What is it?"

"Would you be able to drive me into London tomorrow to get my new schoolbooks, please?" Then he added more quietly, "You'd have to wait for me, of course."

Mr Dursley slopped tea into his saucer and his cup rattled alarmingly. "TWO journeys into London? Not ruddy likely! What's wrong with getting your books the day after when I have to chauffeur you to King's Cross?"

"There won't be time in the few minutes before the train leaves."

"Then we'll go early."

"But my friends will be there tomorrow..." Harry mumbled his protest so his Uncle wouldn't hear him properly.

Where is it, you say?"

"Charing Cross Road."

Mr Dursley looked thoughtful. "Petunia, this means we'll be back sooner and can visit the garden centre and still be back for lunch!"

"But tomorrow is better for—"

"That's settled then. Day after tomorrow." Mr Dursley drained his tea and surrendered his empty teacup to his wife with a satisfied smack of his lips.

Two days later at six, a weak sun was just beginning to lift itself above the tired old wheelie bin at the end of the short driveway. Harry hefted his trunk into the boot of the Dursley family car and off they set with Uncle Vernon driving. If Mr Dursley had checked his rear view mirror as he turned out of Privet Drive he might have noticed an extremely large, very official-looking car pulling up outside Number Four. It was very old-fashioned, dark green, and was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet...

Harry had a disappointing time in Diagon Alley. For one thing he had to rush to make sure he was in good time to get to King's Cross later in the morning. For another, despite his constant looking up and down the street, he saw no sign of any of the Weasleys. Several times he thought he saw little Ginny's flaming red hair and his body lurched in that direction before he could stop it. Each time he told himself they were hardly likely to come here again if they had done all their shopping yesterday — but each time he found himself lurching anyway.

_What if she had been here yesterday? She would think he had forgotten to come!_

He replenished his stock of Galleons from the goblin bank, and bought essential new school robes and books before he could relax and treat himself to an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. The truth was, he still hoped for a glimpse of one of his friends so he kept looking nervously one way and the other all the time he spooned Double Chocolate Froth Surprise into his mouth.

"Harry Potter! What a welcome happenstance!" A man in dark blue robes doffed his hat and bowed ceremoniously before sitting down next to him and Harry was so surprised that it took him a few seconds to recognise it was Mr Lovegood with the mid-morning sun shining through his fluffy white candyfloss hair.

"Hello Mr Lovegood!" chirped Harry. The eccentric man would not have been Harry's first choice of companion that day but he was glad nonetheless to see a familiar face.

"Luna will be along later," said Lovegood. "I wonder if I might prevail upon your kindness? I have Quibbler business to attend to in the Alley. Would it be possible for you to escort my Luna to King's Cross?"

"Yes, but—"

"It would be such a great help to me."

"Yes, but—"

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll be off then."

"Yes, but—"

Harry stared after him in dismay as he disappeared into the growing crowd of shoppers down the Alley. How long was 'later?' And now he came to think of it, how was he to get to King's Cross himself? He checked his pockets for Muggle money and found he had more than he needed for cab fare. He resigned himself to wait.

He continued eating his dessert, luxuriating in every mouthful. He had never tasted ice cream until he began at Hogwarts whereupon he had worked through all forty-nine flavour combinations provided by the school. Now he was taking the opportunity to enjoy other variations whenever he could. Within a few minutes he was scraping up the last few spoonfuls.

"Hello, Daddy! Why have you changed your hair again? I was just getting used to it."

Harry whirled around in his seat.

"You're not my dad! Oh, you're Harry Potter! Your hat is exactly like my dad's."

"Hello, Luna," grinned Harry, glad that he had not had too long to wait after all. "But I'm not wearing a hat."

"Well, nobody eats ice cream with a hat on, of course." She sat down beside him. His eyes fell upon the hat on the table. He sighed.

"Your dad must have forgotten it again, Luna," he said, picking it up and placing it on top of Luna's upturned trunk which she had parked next to her seat. "He asked me to get you to King's Cross."

"How lovely!" beamed Luna. "The journey I mean! Have I time for an ice cream first?"

"Well..."

While she ate, she spread out what appeared to be a fresh edition of the Quibbler. "I hope they don't catch Mr Black," she said between slurps.

"Who?"

"Sirius Black. He's a deranged murderer, you know."

Harry glanced at the headline. _ARE YOU SIRIUS BLACK?_

"Luna, if he's a murderer, wouldn't you rather they capture him?"

"Oh, no!" she said, and her tongue wobbled bright shiny pink from ice cream within her gaping mouth. "Daddy has a lead from a very nice lady who thinks he might be someone else in disguise. He might only be pretending to be a mass murderer."

Harry's lips were still pursing to form the word, "Why?" but Luna anticipated him.

"That," she said dramatically, waving her spoon at Harry and slopping blobs of Neapolitan on to her dad's hat, "is the question!"

"How's Scribbles?" asked Harry, in an effort to change the subject. He had begun to doubt there even was such a person as Sirius Black.

"She's grown a few inches," said Luna, "and taught me some new words in snake language."

"How?" frowned Harry. "I think she understands a little English but she doesn't speak it. How can she teach you?"

"I point my finger at something and she tells me what it is in Parseltongue. I've learned 'cabbage,' and 'turnip,' and 'twig,' and lots of others — but some of those might be 'finger' or 'point,' I'm not sure."

"That's useful."

The taxi journey through heavy traffic drained Harry's patience but Luna was thrilled and asked the driver all sorts of questions about his steering wheel. They arrived safely and in good time and Harry thought he heard a sigh of relief from the taxi man as they left him.

"Harry! Harry!" There they were: Hermione running forward with a shining smile, Ron, grinning and windmilling his arms, and Ginny, scowling suspiciously at Luna and not looking directly at Harry at all.

"Why'd you get a taxi, Harry?" said Ron, dragging Harry to one side. "Dad thought the Ministry were sending a special car to pick you up."

"Ministry car? Why?" grumbled Harry as he watched Ginny walked away with the others to the train platforms. He had wanted to explain to Ginny quickly about the Dursleys not bringing him yesterday to Diagon Alley but Ron had hold of his elbow.

"Dunno, extra security I think. Did you see the Prophet about that madman?"

"No..." murmured Harry, not really listening and with his attention fully on Ginny's figure receding into the crowd.

.

~~~ Strangers on the Train ~~~

Harry was annoyed. Five minutes into the journey on the Hogwarts Express, Luna and Neville had dragged Ginny off to another compartment. He could see that she did not need much persuading.

"Yes, of course!" Ginny had cried as she flounced after them. "You must tell me everything you did over the holidays!"

Harry had a feeling he would only get a brief mention on the day he visited and they would tell her about his humiliating attempt to ride the owl. He had had no chance to explain why he had arrived together with Luna Lovegood in the same black cab and wasn't confident that Luna's explanation would exonerate him. On top of that, Ron and Hermione were quarrelling. Apparently Hermione had bought a new cat and it had tried to attack Ron's rat, Scabbers.

A bad mood swept over Harry. There had been no opportunity to really talk to Ginny or show her any warmth. Had she taken that as an indication he was annoyed at her? Perhaps it was his fault after all, he mused; he should have moved more quickly when he first saw her, given her a smile or something. _How has this happened!_

The train rattled along its way and the day proceeded past noon and then past one. He chatted with Ron and Hermione but his mind was elsewhere. Was Ginny expecting him to go and join them? Harry felt more and more frustrated. He stared glumly at the shabbily-dressed man apparently asleep in the corner seat opposite. Hermione had said he was a new teacher called Professor Lupin but Harry wasn't really interested. The man was still fast asleep when Ginny finally showed her face late in the afternoon.

"It's starting to rain," she said, as she sat down beside Harry.

Certainly it was getting darker outside. Harry wasn't sure how to respond to Ginny. If she was supposed to be his girlfriend why hadn't she stayed with him? And why wasn't she sitting closer? Had she found a new boyfriend in Egypt? His mind started to fill with images of her running across a desert, laughing gleefully as she was chased by a boy in white robes and a fez atop his dark handsome features.

He glanced the other way. Ron and Hermione had settled their differences and were now happily reading the Daily Prophet together. Why weren't he and Ginny sharing something? He longed to inch closer, read a book together, put his arm around her waist.

What if the new teacher woke up? It was hard enough to talk to Ginny with Ron and Hermione there, let alone an adult. The two of them sat rather awkwardly. _If only we had been together all summer, everything would be alright,_ thought Harry glumly. _It was that long separation. Damn it! Now we hardly know one another!_

Ron, sitting next to Hermione, looked up and stretched. He shuffled and leaned forward in his seat as though he were going to get up. Harry beat him to it.

"Just going to stretch my legs for a while," said Harry, leaping up and opening the train compartment door. He glanced at Ginny and tilted his head as he passed, hoping she would take the hint and follow him.

He walked along the corridor, lurching with the train, until he was far enough away and found a secluded doorway niche to stand in at the end of the next carriage. He stood there, hoping she would come along and wondering what he would do if she didn't and what he would do if she did.

He began thinking about how she had first been infatuated with 'The Boy Who Lived' last year and how he played along with it for her sake and to avoid a lot of bother if she were ignored. But had he been wrong to pretend? Certainly their first kiss hadn't been faked. He had grown to enjoy her company more and more. Now, after weeks of being far apart, he hoped she was still fond of him just so he could be with her. Was that so wicked? But what if she had grown out of it?

She wasn't coming. He knew that now. She hated him. _Damn that stupid holiday! Why'd she choose to go away instead of being with me! She could have told her mum she didn't feel well! Instead she chose Egypt over me!_

The rain became heavier and the sky darkened so much that lanterns flickered into life on the train. The wind seemed to roar past even louder in the deepening gloom.

Footsteps sounded along the corridor so he leaned out so she could see where he was. He gulped. Last year he regarded Ginny as a child needing his attention and comfort; now, as she swayed along the heavily lurching train, he could see she was a real girl and he was just a boy.

"Hermione said she thinks Dumbledore's getting rid of Lockhart," said Ginny as she came up to him. Her voice sounded like she'd prepared the statement so they had something to talk about.

"Yeah, well, he is pretty useless. Oh, you mean that new professor will teach Defence? Has he woken up yet?"

She nodded then shook her head.

They stood in silence for a while.

Harry shuffled his feet. "I couldn't get to Diagon Alley until today," he mumbled, and his voice wasn't really audible above the wind and rain hammering against the windows. "That's where I met Luna." He tried to read Ginny's expression. "Honestly, it was just an amazing coincidence. Well, not really a coincidence because she had to get books too. I mean... I've not seen her apart from... Well, I went to her place... but it wasn't... I mean... just as a friend... We just played chess and... things..."

"Harry... you still like me, don't you?" she said tentatively.

Harry was startled by the question. He wasn't sure if she was hoping he didn't.

He muttered vaguely without showing conviction, "mmm... yeah."

Ginny couldn't hear him for the storm. She raised her own voice but it was rather shrill with anxiety. "I mean, I _had_ to go to Egypt. It was nice but I'd rather we'd have been at home this summer so you could have visited."

"Me too," said Harry. He was forced to speak more loudly now or not be heard at all.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was fed up on my own."

"So... so you're not mad at me?"

"Course not!" cried Harry and he managed a dry laugh. "Why? Because you had to go to Egypt? Not your fault was it!" He'd known it all along but it had still hurt. "I was pleased for you, actually. Hoping you were having a good time, I mean."

Ginny was studying his expression intently and Harry was trying to examine how the door would slide between the inner and outer window or why the design of the overhead light fittings was so old-fashioned or looking anywhere but directly at her.

"So can I still be your girlfriend then?"

"Yes, of course." She was near enough then so he took her hand, trying to be as casual and relaxed as they had last term. "Oh, look, there's that cake factory I told you about, remember — see, it's marked along the roof: — E. CLARE & CO. —"

"Oh, yes." But the window was streaming with rain and it was almost black outside. She didn't press close to see.

He knew what she wanted but it felt even more difficult to reach out and kiss her than that very first time up the Astronomy Tower. He wanted the impulse to push him into it like before but it didn't. He tried to make himself do it but his limbs seemed frozen. _Come on, before it's too late, Harry!_

Then she shrank away and her hand withdrew from his to brush away an unimportant fragment of lint on her shoulder. He could feel her disappointment like icy guilt in his stomach. The train went into a cutting through the hills and the dark grey stones flung back their doubled reflections from the windows. She was looking down dejectedly at her feet and it was his fault. He had a vision of millions of her reflections every day all through the coming term — all looking downward.

"I think I like you even more this year," he heard himself cry above the storm.

Now she was looking up again and her eyes came alight. Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her smile. The train pitched and jerked as it began to slow down; the wheels screeched painfully over the rails; they had to cling to each other to avoid falling over...

"Well, well, how sweet." It was Draco Malfoy. "Oh, Darling, I think I love you even more this year!" Crabbe and Goyle, at his shoulder, guffawed with a laughter.

"Clear off, Malfoy," snarled Ginny. "Until you're mature enough like Harry to have a girlfriend yourself, you couldn't possibly understand."

Malfoy flushed and Harry snickered as he straightened up, feeling suddenly taller by two or three inches at least.

A sudden icy chill swept along the corridor.

"Think that's funny do you, Potter?" snapped Draco. "Perhaps it's time to teach you some manners..."

"Coward!" Harry blurted, stepping protectively in front of Ginny, a new boldness coursing through his veins. "Three onto one?"

Goyle laughed. "Think I can't squash you flat on my own, do you?" He elbowed Crabbe to one side and raised his fists. "Come on, then!"

"Yeah, Potter, I'd like to see you try one of your lucky punches on Goyle!" laughed Draco.

Harry squared up, suddenly realising he was dead — as good as. Goyle swung but it seemed wild to Harry who only inclined his head and shoulders a little to make sure it missed. In fact, he soon learned, none of Goyle's punches were controlled anywhere near as well as Dudley's — nor was the boy as big as his cousin. Harry's main asset was his agility; he managed to keep out of the way of Goyle's lunges fairly easily and even landed a couple of body blows of his own.

Draco laughed. "Those puffy little nudges the best you can do, Potter?"

Gregory Goyle had neither the skill nor the mass of Dudley but it was soon evident that, just as with big Dudley, Harry lacked the power to hurt Goyle much; he would have to wear him out...

Thwack!

Harry never saw the blow from Vincent Crabbe that hit him in the side of the head. He felt two or three more thumps in the gloom that clouded his vision as he stumbled down to one knee. The train abruptly jerked to a halt. Luggage could be heard crashing to the ground along the train. The lights went out completely and a dreadful chill air rushed through the corridor. A girlish shriek made him struggle up again. Someone had cast a faintly bluish wandlight and he could vaguely see Goyle lumbering away down the corridor clutching at his face followed by Crabbe — and Malfoy, hurling insults over his shoulder as he ran.

"What... happened," Harry went down on one knee again. The lights flickered on and he could see Ginny was grinning.

"Hexed him," she laughed. Her wand appeared to be smoking.

The train lurched into motion again.

"You... you saved me..." murmured Harry, striving against the last remnants of an icy sleepiness that had been trying to seize his mind.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright!" Hermione and Ron came running up.

The corridor began to feel warmer again and he managed to regain his feet. "Sure, nothing really."

"Not much! He only bested Crabbe and Goyle!" beamed Ginny admiringly.

Harry blinked, trying to remember. He liked the new version of events.

"No, I mean the Dementor!" cried Hermione. "Did it come this way?"

"The what?"

"Dementor," said Ron, excitedly. "Came in our compartment! Lupin drove it away."

"What's a Dementor?" asked Harry.

"Horrible dark scabby thing, big as a man," said Hermione. "Professor Lupin said they're guards from Azkaban looking for Sirius Black."

"On the train?" said Harry. "Do they seriously expect a demented murderer to be on a school train?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Hermione, worriedly. "I just don't know."

"Come on," said Ron. "We're nearly there. Best get our stuff together and get our school robes on."

The train was indeed soon coasting very slowly into the station near Hogsmeade and then they were stepping down onto the familiar platform. Harry walked with Ginny up the path to the carriages. There was no awkwardness between them now and Ginny kept close to make sure they squeezed into the same stagecoach.

"You'd have beat Goyle easy if it weren't for that cowardly Crabbe," whispered Ginny in his ear as the coach pulled away. Harry wasn't so sure but he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

"Well, you fixed him good, Ginny," smiled Harry, and since Ron and Hermione were preoccupied with holding hands in the seat opposite, he took Ginny's hand in his and kissed it. She giggled softly and snuggled up closer. It was such sweet relief after their cold isolation during the first part of the journey that Harry vowed he would never hold back again even they were separated for a million years.

Harry and Ginny had their first sight of a Dementor as the horseless carriages rolled up to the front gates of Hogwarts. There were two of them, tall and hooded, and a wave of cold despair engulfed them all as they passed.

"They must be mental having those creatures near a school," muttered Ron. "Wonder what for?"

"Shouldn't worry about it, Ron," said Harry. "They're none of our concern so just forget about them."

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	16. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 03

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_So far... After a long summer of separation, Harry had an awkward time with Ginny on the Hogwarts Express for a while. But their gradual reconciliation was finally sealed by a jointly-successful confrontation with Draco on the train in which Harry had a fist fight with Goyle, and Ginny hexed the Slytherins because of an unfair attack by Crabbe on Harry. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 16**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 3**

* * *

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~~~ A Promising Start ~~~

Harry smiled as he took out a couple of laundered, neatly-folded blankets from a wardrobe and spread them out carefully in his corner of the dormitory. It would be good to be able to stretch out fully when he came back to sleep that night.

"Hurry up, you two," shouted Seamus as he and Dean walked to the stairs. "Neville's already gone to the Great Hall." The tops of their heads bobbed quickly down out of view but the hubbub of rushing students still filtered up from below.

"Ready for the feast, Harry?" said Ron. He thrust the last of his travel bags into a cupboard and knocked the door shut with the back of his heel as he turned away.

Harry took one final look into his trunk, pushed it along a few inches next to a chair to help mark and secure his personal space, released a satisfying sigh, then closed the lid. "Yeah, ready."

"What are you so happy about?" grinned Ron. The wooden steps they were descending seemed to creak that little bit more underfoot now he and Harry were a year older and rather heavier.

Harry paused in his stride, then continued to follow his friend; he hadn't realised his mood was so evident. "Oh, nothing ... you'd be glad to get back here too if you lived with the Dursleys long enough."

They flopped down into the leather armchairs near the exit while they waited for the girls, Ron frowning both at his watch and the clock on the wall. The common room was full of commotion as usual on the first day of the new school year as kids hurried to stow their luggage and check their school robes before dinner.

"What's keeping them?" grumbled Ron.

Parvati came running down at that moment along with Lavender, then they hurried by to follows others going out the portrait hole. Hermione descended moments later, face bright, smoothing down her robes with an anxious hand, and Ginny, pink-cheeked, right behind her, chattering away breathlessly at the back of Hermione's bushy head.

"About time," laughed Ron. "Come on, I want to get as near the front as possible to laugh at the new sprogs trembling to be sorted."

Hermione's hands went from her own robes to brushing over Ron's shoulders and pulling down a crease in his sleeve. She followed with a nod of approval and a smile.

Harry and Ginny still daren't be too public about their relationship but they walked quite closely together after the other two. Harry drew in a deep, satisfying breath of Hogwarts' air. He knew he wouldn't quite yet be able to catch the aroma of dinner but there was something welcoming about the familiar smells of the musty corridor and flaming torches of his home from home. And there was a new fragrance too...

"Mmm... flowers..." he said, turning his head to look at the glowing hair of the girl at his side.

"Oh, it's only some new after-shower talc, I'm trying" said Ginny, off-handedly, pretending not to be thrilled that Harry had noticed, but the blood was suddenly racing hot through the girl's veins and her cheeks were that little bit more pink.

"Nice. Really nice. Suits you."

Despite the foul weather and the Dementors at the Hogwarts' gates, Harry was now quite upbeat as he took his seat with Ginny and his friends at the opening feast after nightfall. An increased confidence came with being a third-year as he watched the nervous new students being sorted by the hat. And observing the dark scowls on the faces of Draco Malfoy and his supporters was satisfying too.

"We did beat them on the train, didn't we, Ginny?" reflected Harry, happily, letting the reality of what had occurred blur and merge in his memory into a joint success, "The two of us."

Ginny giggled loudly and the candle before her place setting guttered then flickered full again, lighting her flashing hair with golden streaks. "Definitely. You were great. Goyle was like a great slow slug and you were dancing round him like a matador doing the tango. You could thrash all three of them one by one given time because they were amateurs by comparison to you."

Harry beamed. He knew she was laying it on a bit thick but he loved the sensation of praise — especially from her. Never had he won any commendations nor ever experienced a thankyou from the Dursleys so he appreciated Ginny's support all the more. Harry had not thought of his miserable sparring sessions with Dudley as being of any use to anyone but Dudley himself.

"You should be careful, Harry," cautioned Hermione. "Slytherins are not to be trusted and..." She tailed off as the sorting ended with Dora Williams getting sorted into Hufflepuff whereupon the headmaster rose to his feet almost before McGonagall had stowed away the Sorting Hat.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the lantern light shimmering colour onto his long grey beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their... intrusion on the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," said Dumbledore, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs foul of the Dementors," he said.

Harry's eyes followed the direction of Dumbledore's gestures and saw Percy preening and posturing in his seat and he, in turn, smiling proudly towards Penelope Clearwater at the Ravenclaw table.

Ginny nodded in response to Harry's questioning look. "Yes, Percy's in his last year now — and he's been made head boy. She's head girl."

Ron smirked, shook his head slowly and murmured, "He's called 'Head Boy' because of the size of his thick skull."

"Good one, Ron," said George in a loud whisper, "coming from you."

Ron wasn't sure whether he had been praised or insulted. While he was thinking about it, Dumbledore also confirmed Lupin as the new Defence teacher and Hagrid was to take over Care of Magical Creatures.

"I reckon Lupin might be quite good," said Ron, George's quip quickly forgotten. "He sounded quite a decent bloke when he spoke to us on the train and he did drive that Dementor away. I bet Lockhart would've run back to King's Cross."

"And having Hagrid for a teacher as well! That's brilliant!" said Harry as they tucked into the feast. "This is going to be a great year!"

.

~~~ A Pride of Hippogriffs ~~~

Hagrid's first lesson was an especially interesting one.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Hagrid affixed their tethers to the fence posts.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant but looking at their sharp beaks and claws, he was happy Hagrid had tethered them behind the fence.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, "cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Harry grimaced. Downtrodden for years, he had become expert at not causing offence simply by keeping out of the way as much as possible.

"Right, who wants ter go first?"

The class cringed back farther away in response. The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this. Hermione did try to stand her ground but she found herself trembling and stepping back with everyone else despite herself; the savage-looking creatures were so close she could hear their feathers ruffling in the breeze.

She could understand everyone's reluctance — especially Harry; he was half-hidden behind Ron. But Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't even listening; they were talking in an undertone and Hermione had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson. She wanted Hagrid to make a success of his first class so she tried to show her interest to encourage him, but the best she could do was to incline her head and raise her eyebrows to try to look curious and attentive.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

Hermione glanced desperately around at the class but no one moved other than to ease away. She gestured with her eyes at Ron but he was giving tiny shakes of his head back at her. He looked almost as scared as she was, and she couldn't really blame him. Neville was gulping heavily and looking the other way. Harry was almost lost in the crowd of students by now; he seemed to be slowly inching his way to the back with his head down — quite cleverly, Hermione thought enviously, as she could see no obvious movement of his limbs other than that he was melting into the scenery. If only she could do that — be anywhere but here. She looked around for a tree to creep behind...

"I'll do it," she whispered hoarsely.

The words had slipped out from a sense of duty that was greater than her instinctive trepidation.

"No, Hermione!" croaked Ron, but she had already stepped shakily forward to climb over the paddock fence.

"Good girl, Hermione!" roared Hagrid.

"I'll have a go, instead," said Ron, walking forward and reaching for the rail. Hermione gave him an adoring look mixed with relief.

"Good man, there, Ron! But yeh'll ha' ter wait yer turn!" Hagrid lifted the startled Hermione over the fence. He hefted her briefly like a gunner estimating the weight and diameter of a small cannonball then perused his flock for one of appropriate dimensions.

"Right then, let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the grey Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously. Hermione seemed to be muttering encouragement to herself under her breath to steady her nerves — or perhaps she was saying her prayers. The girl forced herself to look up and face her fear and was startled to see the terrifying creature was glaring directly back at her as if deciding whether she were a threat or a tasty meal that Hagrid intended to throw its way.

"Easy now, Hermione," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much."

Hermione's eyes immediately began to water, but she didn't shut them. Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at her with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Hermione, now, bow."

She did as she was told, gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at her. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right, back away, now, Hermione, easy does it."

But then the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Hermione!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right, yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

That was the last thing she wanted to do but Hermione stepped shakily toward the Hippogriff and reached upwards. She patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Hermione," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

Hermione's brain froze. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. _Who does he mean?_

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that."

Hermione found herself unable to speak so she couldn't refuse and her legs seemed as heavy as lead too so she couldn't run away. She stared back and forth between Hagrid and the creature, wondering if she had misunderstood what was expected of her but Hagrid's expression made it quite clear she had not.

The creature was still crouched forward very low so, screwing up every ounce of her courage, she put her foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted herself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up. Up and up went its back, rolling and tilting like a ship in a storm. Hermione could scarcely believe how tall the creature stood once you were on top of the beast. Nor was she sure where to hold on; everything in front of her was covered with feathers. She closed her eyes and hoped desperately that her mount would keep itself absolutely still while she was on it because if it took just one step... _Please don't start walking around the paddock... Please don't start walking around the paddock... Please don't..._

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Hermione, who just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before she was soaring upward, squealing with fright. The Hippogriff's wings beat uncomfortably on either side of her, catching her under her legs and making her feel she was about to be thrown aside; the glossy feathers slipped under her fingers and she didn't dare get a stronger grip. She now felt herself rocking backward and forward as the hindquarters of the Hippogriff rose and fell with its wings.

Buckbeak flew her once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground. Hermione had stopped shrieking but only because she was now holding her breath in terror and turning slightly purple in the face. She leaned back as the smooth neck lowered, feeling she was going to slip over the beak, then felt a heavy thud as the four ill-assorted feet hit the ground. She just managed to hold on and push herself straight again then immediately jumped off onto the ground, trembling with shock and trying not to throw up her breakfast.

"Good work, Hermione!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened or shamed by Hermione's success, some of the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Harry practised on the chestnut, while Hermione, finding herself still alive, watched, her nerves quickly settling now she didn't have to do it herself.

"Step back, Ron!" she cried, with the great authority of prior experience, "that's it. Now try again."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak next to them. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Hermione to hear him close by. "I knew it must have been, if that Mudblood could do it! I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?" Hermione glared at him and just knew there would be trouble. It wasn't his words, but his tone and swagger that were the danger.

It happened in a flash of steely talons. The creature reared up and as Malfoy cringed off-balance, Hermione grabbed and dragged him backwards to safety. But in his panic, he spun sideways away from her and sprawled awkwardly headlong into a pile of Hippogriff droppings. The whole class roared with laughter. Even Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

Hagrid came running up. "Yeh great prune, Malfoy. Get outta the paddock an' get yersel' cleaned up. All righ' there, Hermione?"

Malfoy ran off red-faced back to the castle, spluttering poo and obscenities out of his mouth.

"Classic!" cried Ron, giving Hermione a quick hug. "You were brilliant! I'd have let him get torn to pieces if it were me!"

"Then Hagrid would have been in trouble, wouldn't he?" said Hermione, but she was beaming with embarrassed pleasure at all the admiring glances she was getting. For perhaps the first time since coming to Hogwarts, she began to feel more accepted and respected by the other girls.

"That'll be all over the school by lunchtime," laughed Harry. "Can't wait to tell Ginny."

He was right. For the rest of the week Malfoy had to suffer people's jokes and holding their noses in mock horror as they gave him a wide berth in the corridors.

But what was to occur in the following weeks would not be funny at all — especially for Harry...

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

.


	17. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 04

.

_So far... Despite Dementors being stationed around Hogwarts' boundaries, Harry was glad to be back with Ginny at school for his third year. He and his friends were especially cheerful after Hermione bravely rode a Hippogriff during Hagrid's Magical Creatures class and humiliated Draco by dragging him into a dung heap. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 17**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 4**

* * *

.

~~~ Pet Hate ~~~

Despite the upbeat start to the school year, not everything went well during the first term. Hermione's cat, which she had named Crookshanks, continued to chase Ron's rat, Scabbers, at every opportunity. Fortunately, Ron was now so fond of Hermione that his annoyance was diluted and he rapidly dismissed the incidents to keep the peace between them — though not always without a spontaneous shout or two...

"OY!" bellowed Ron. "Can't you keep that stupid animal in your dormitory!"

"It's only natural. All cats chase rats, Ron!" glared Hermione.

"Yeah, well... Poor old Scabbers is scared out of his wits. Look at him!"

Ron's pet rat was trembling and certainly looking very moth-eaten indeed.

"He's old, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ron took a deep breath but stifled his reply. Instead, he clamped his mouth tight and forced a nod or two. Hermione could not suppress a feeling of admiration at his self-restraint; it made her feel a tinge of remorse herself.

She wagged her finger firmly at Crookshanks, but with one eye on Ron's expression, then gathered the cat into her arms and took him upstairs.

Harry was impressed too — though still a little concerned. He could tell from Ron's expression as he stroked his pet to soothe its nerves, that his friend's patience was being pushed to new limits.

.

~~~ A Day Out ~~~

The first Hogsmeade weekend was on Halloween and because neither Harry nor Ginny could go to the village, they spent most of the day alone together — partly in the common room and partly outside. They did consider going up the Astronomy Tower again but Harry was reluctant to push their luck. He was sure they would be caught if they went up there too often.

"Hagrid, can we take one of the boats out?"

The big man eyed the two of them with a grin almost lost between the wild long tangles of dark bushy hair and thick black beard.

"Bit breezy for boatin', Harry." His gaze turned to Ginny. "An' if a prefec' were ter see yeh, it'd be—"

"Percy's gone to the—" Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth and turned rather pink.

"Has he, now?" said Hagrid. "Well, still, best yeh cover up well, mind — ter keep out th' chills." He added with a wink.

He taught them the charm to propel the boat and they took a packed lunch. There were a few first and second-years playing in the grounds near the castle but Ginny guided the gently rocking boat towards the far side so she and Harry were blissfully alone. They shared a happy couple of hours together until Harry felt Ginny give a sudden shudder as she lounged back in his arms.

"There's someone... something watching us, Harry."

"Something?" Harry tried to gauge the direction of Ginny's gaze. "In the Forest, you mean? I can't see anything. Just shadows, Ginny."

Ginny sat upright and stared at the trees. "I thought something moved. I'm sure... It was a dark shape but... I felt its eyes on us."

Harry peered intently into the treeline but shook his head.

"Let's go back, Harry."

"Are you sure you're not..." Harry looked closely at the concern in Ginny's expression. "Yeah, sure, let's get back." He gave his scarf another twist around his neck and took out his wand.

"They'll be starting to return from Hogsmeade in an hour or so, anyway. Don't want people to start talking about us."

The spell he cast turned the rowboat's prow smoothly back around to point at the castle and the craft slid across the still-slightly-choppy waters as if eager to return home.

Harry laughed and joked on the journey back to try to cheer up Ginny but though she giggled at all the right moments, he noticed she also frequently glanced back in the direction of the Forest as they made their way.

However, the incident was soon forgotten and they rounded the day off nicely at the Halloween feast with Ron and Hermione, each chatting about how they had spent their day. While they were all happily walking back to the common room together, they heard a commotion ahead around the Fat Lady's portrait and Percy sent for the headmaster. Ron and Hermione pushed forward to try to find out what the hold up was but Harry kept out of it and took Ginny to the end of the corridor where they could talk until it was sorted out. They smiled at one another.

"Do you think you might get permission for Hogsmeade next year, Harry?" said Ginny, hopefully.

Harry could see what she was hinting at. He scratched his head and thought deeply. "It'll be really difficult. Uncle Vernon hates doing anything that makes me happy."

"Well then, tell him you don't want to go because you hate it." She raised her eyebrows quizzically and tilted her head to invite his answer.

Harry goggled at her. It was so obvious with hindsight. "Why didn't I think about that, this year! It'd have to be a very convincing story of course. Perhaps I can make it sound like a punishment — he'd like that!" Harry laughed.

Harry and Ginny were too preoccupied with each other to hear what was going on around them but Hermione soon enlightened them.

"Come on, you two!" she cried as she swept by with Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors.

"Eh? What's happened, Hermione?"

"Honestly, didn't you pay any attention? Sirius Black got into the school and slashed the Fat Lady picture! They're replacing her portrait with Sir Cadogan"

"You're joking!" said Ginny, anxiously, as she and Harry allowed themselves to be carried along by the crowd. "Why would he come here?"

"I think the teachers know something," said Hermione, "else why would they have Dementors guarding the school? Look, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, right? And the prison guards are Dementors. Someone must have tipped them off he might come to Hogwarts which must be why the Ministry sent the Dementors here."

"But why?" asked Harry, nervously. "And what do we do? Is he still here? Do they think he might run amok, killing students or something?"

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said breathlessly as they hurried along. "Professor Dumbledore wants everyone to sleep in the Great Hall while they sort it out. I suppose he thinks the teachers can protect us better if we're all together."

The headmaster stacked all the long tables against the walls with one wave of his wand and conjured up squashy purple sleeping bags for everyone. Shoes were kicked off and outer robes sheepishly cast aside but otherwise, Harry could see they were all having to rough it in their jeans and shirts.

"Everyone into their bedding!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"C'mon," Ron said; they seized four sleeping bags and dragged them into a corner. Harry smiled as he saw Ron pushing his bag up close to Hermione's. He looked around, Ginny was already in her bag against the wall and looking up at him expectantly. He grinned and spread his bag head to head so they could talk quietly together without being heard.

"This is nice," whispered Harry.

"Oy!" said Ron.

"Oy, yourself!" said Harry without looking round. He winked at Ginny and she grinned back.

The doors opened again and Neville and Luna hurried in rather out of breath.

"Where have you been?" demanded Percy.

"I've just been owling a report to my dad!" said Luna chirpily. "We want Mr Black to get away. He's innocent, you know."

"Suppose next year I tell my uncle there's a mass murderer in Hogsmeade and I don't want to go?" whispered Harry. "It's so unbelievable though, I doubt he'd accept it!"

"How about wild animals?" Ginny whispered back. "Do they know what Hogsmeade is?"

"No, they've no idea. I could say a student got gored by something horrible. Uncle Vernon would probably sign my form in a flash!"

After a while, the lights blinked out, the general murmuring died down, but Harry and Ginny continued whispering softly together in the dark until they fell asleep — the only illumination coming from the starry magical sky above and the tall dim windows.

.

~~~ Bad News ~~~

Early the next morning, Professor McGonagall woke Harry and summoned him to her office. She had such a sombre expression on her face that Harry thought someone must have died. Ginny, still huddled up in her sleeping bag, anxiously watched through half-closed eyes as he was led out.

"Sit down, Potter. There's no point hiding it from you any longer," she said in a very serious voice, indicating the chair in front of her desk. "I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black was..."

Harry waited. McGonagall walked slowly around to the other side of her desk and sat down rather tentatively. Harry could see that she was deliberately delaying saying what she had to say — or perhaps not sure how to tell it. Either way, he grew more and more uncomfortable as he watched the elderly teacher shuffling with the quills in her desk holder. A goblet of pumpkin juice stood before her neatly-aligned blotting pad and Harry realised with some irritation that he had still not had breakfast. His mouth was dry.

"The reason he's... Well, the truth is... it was he that helped You-know-who locate you as a baby."

"HE WHAT!" Harry jumped to his feet, jostling the desk. The surface of the juice trembled in the goblet. "Why? How did he—?"

"Sit down, Potter" McGonagall gestured to his seat but Harry remained on his feet, numb to her request. She frowned but continued, "We feel sure he'd allied himself to the dark wizard. He would have been well rewarded..."

"So... You think he's trying to find out again where I am — to tell You-know-who?"

"Oh, Black knows exactly where you are. The whole wizarding world knows Harry Potter attends Hogwarts School."

"But why then did he come here yesterday?"

McGonagall examined Harry's expression for a time before continuing. "There is a theory that Black believes because You-know-who's curse did not kill you but only drove the dark wizard away..." She coughed slightly as if clearing her throat and reached for the goblet, but she did not drink from it. "Black might believe that the reverse is true. You have to realise he's deranged, of course," she added hastily.

Harry's eyes widened and he slowly sank back down into his chair. He tried to recollect the strange dream he had had in his second year in which Professor Quirrell was talking to...

McGonagall made a slight movement with her wand towards the hearth and Harry was vaguely aware that the fire flared a little brighter and the logs crackled and popped more cheerfully, but it did nothing for the chill atmosphere in his heart.

"Black is trying to kill me?" he said faintly. "To bring back... You-know-who?"

McGonagall nodded. Her lips were set in a severe, horizontal line.

"So, all these Dementors — they're here because of... _me_?"

McGonagall hesitated but then again she nodded, giving him time to assimilate the information, but she wasn't prepared for his eventual response.

Harry jumped to his feet again. "Then I'm the cause of all this! I'm endangering everyone in the school! You must send me away!"

McGonagall smiled grimly. "Hogwarts is still the safest place for you to be, Potter."

"But everyone else is at risk! He's a madman, you said so yourself! The slashed portrait; that could have been—"

Harry suddenly had a vision of Ginny, ripped and bloody from head to toe staring blindly up accusingly at him. He strode to the door. "I have to leave Hogwarts immediately."

McGonagall sighed. "Calm yourself, Potter. The headmaster has taken all necessary precautions."

"Can he guarantee the safety of the students?" Harry called back over his shoulder. "Could he have ensured the protection of the Fat Lady portrait? This is awful! This is dreadful! This is the worst trouble I've ever caused! I'm leaving."

His hand was on the doorknob when McGonagall challenged him.

"Where will you go, Potter?" There was a tone of inevitability in her voice.

"Home." But he had only turned the handle halfway. In his mind's eye he saw his homecoming: the derision, perhaps the rejection, of the Dursleys. A year in his cupboard would be luxury though, to escape the turmoil he felt he had caused here at Hogwarts.

"And then what? Muggle school?" cried McGonagall. "Those children will not have Hogwarts to protect them against the dark magic cast by a lunatic. He has already slaughtered many Muggles."

Harry released the doorknob and it sprang back with a loud clunk of resignation.

.

~~~ Isolation ~~~

Since Harry could not leave Hogwarts, he began instinctively avoiding other students, especially his friends, and most especially, Ginny. It wasn't deliberately thought out. He unconsciously gravitated to solitariness, away from anyone that might be harmed should he be attacked by Sirius Black. He felt more comfortable when alone because he was not then causing trouble for anyone. That way of thinking had been brainwashed into him as a child.

Ginny noticed before he did himself, of course, and grabbed his sleeve as tried to slink away down the corridor outside the common room

"Harry, what's going on?" She asked him gently.

He blinked and his mouth opened silently while he tried to think of some words to fill it with. "Erm... What about?"

"I thought it was just me at first but you're avoiding everyone."

"I am?" He knew it was true the moment it was brought to his attention. Now he felt his dilemma: he didn't want to worry anyone but neither did he want to lie to his friends, especially Ginny.

"Harry, just tell me."

He sighed; to upset anyone was painful to him. "It's Sirius Black — You mustn't worry about this but... it's me he's after. That's why he's been trying to get into Hogwarts. McGonagall thinks he intends to kill me to get You-know-who to return!"

Ginny's head recoiled as if she had been slapped. Her mouth opened wide and she gaped at Harry for a few moments — then the tears flowed and she flung her arms around him. "I won't let him, Harry. I won't let him! I love you, Harry! I'll die first rather than let Sirius Black hurt you!"

Harry was overwhelmed. He patted her on the back. He was very, very fond of Ginny but he hadn't fully appreciated the depth of her devotion to him.

.

~~~ Escorts ~~~

Ginny must have spoken to their friends because in the remaining weeks of the term it was noticeable that he was almost always accompanied by at least one or two of them. If he said he was going to the library then Hermione or Luna would jump up saying she had to go too — usually both. When he nipped up to the dormitory to fetch something from his trunk he usually found Ron or Neville watching him from the stairs on his return. And, of course, Ginny rarely let him out of her sight.

His thinking became very confused. He felt like he was a time bomb that might explode at any time, injuring his companions — but he experienced a strange warmth inside because they cared about him enough to risk their lives.

On the very last weekend of the autumn term there was another Hogsmeade trip to give students a chance to do their Christmas shopping. Harry put his foot down and resisted everyone's offer to stay with him because he knew how much it meant to them.

"Ginny and Luna will still be here," he said. "Anyway, I'm definitely not going home to the Dursleys over the holidays so we have to accept I can't always have anyone with me."

There were several concerned frowns facing him after that and Ginny in particular tried hard to persuade Harry to come to The Burrow over Christmas but he resisted.

"I am not putting your entire family in jeopardy, Ginny. Hogwarts is a magical fortress compared to your home and Sirius Black even found a way in here once."

His friends could see he would not be be easily persuaded, but Harry could tell from the expressions they exchanged with each other that they would not be put off either. They were hatching something...

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Sorry for the delay in publishing this chapter due to the extensive television coverage of Wimbledon eating into my leisure time - blame Andy Murray!_

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

.


	18. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 05

.

_So far... Dementors are stationed around Hogwarts' boundaries yet Sirius Black gained access and slashed the Fat Lady portrait. McGonagall informed Harry it's possible that Sirius believes killing Harry will bring about Voldemort's return. Harry was unhappy about being a risk to his friends but they insisted on watching out for him. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 18**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 5**

* * *

.

~~~ Trials and a Downfall ~~~

Oliver Wood looked anxiously around at the ugly skies gusting in from the north, and grimaced. There were a few pale gaps remaining but dark clouds were gradually swamping them and he could smell rain in the air. Even worse, the temperature was dropping, suggesting winter snows were not far behind. His Quidditch robes flapped whip-like behind him as he rotated his broom and rose higher to survey the team's training efforts.

"CYNTHIA, NO!"

Heads turned — everyone's except Cynthia's for she was too distant, and so far upwind that even Oliver Wood's explosive shout was carried away by the strengthening breeze.

"What's she up to, Oliver?" cried Katie, but Wood had already leaned hard upon his broomstick and was pursuing Cynthia in haste. If he called back, Katie never heard him.

"She's doing speed trials," shouted Alicia, hurrying in with Fred and George to the edge of the Quidditch pitch nearest the drama.

"So what's the problem?" yelled Katie. It had not been a good session and everyone had been made more edgy by the unpromising weather.

"She's going too close to the gate!" shouted Fred, rising steeply to get a better look.

Katie screwed up her eyes in puzzlement.

"Dementors, Katie!" cried George. "Dementors!"

Katie gasped and spurred her own broom forward after Wood.

George squinted into the eye-stinging winds then winced at what he saw. He shook his head and turned to Ron who was kitted out in his Keeper gear but watching horrified from the stands with Hermione, Neville and Luna. George sped towards them.

"Ron! Fetch Harry! He'll be needed," cried George. "Tell him it's life and death!"

.

~~~ Find And Ye Shall Seek ~~~

"What right now, Ron?" said Harry. He lounged back before the cosy fireplace and rolled his eyes at Ginny who was sat in the next chair writing notes. Me and Ginny were just—"

"Harry, they're playing Hufflepuff tomorrow! They've only got a few hours to prepare! You should have been there today, anyway!"

Ginny's wand flipped irritably as she whisked a crumpled parchment into the fire. Harry watched it blaze briefly in her eyes then, uncharacteristically, he flared up too...

"Yeah, if there wasn't a lunatic out there trying to kill me! Anyway, Wood said me and Ginny weren't needed! We've got Charms homework to finish. I'm not just going to sit out there watching in this weather!" He indicated the windows upon which rain had just begun to spatter.

"You know McGonagall will get Madam Hooch to watch your back," said Ron. "Anyway, there are plenty of us. Sirius Black can hardly attack you while you're flying about amongst lots of other people, can he? Safest place if you ask me. Come on. You need to show a bit of enthusiasm, Harry, or..."

"Or what, Ron? I won't get picked to practise?" He stretched his legs out to toast before the crackling flames. Clearly, Harry was enjoying the snug comforts of the Gryffindor common room too much to be enticed by a cold, wet broomstick or, more likely, an unpromising, hard seat in the stands. "Ron, did Wood give you any training time at all today?"

"Well, no, but..."

"There you are, then! We've only had about three training sessions since we started!" Ginny shook her head and held up four fingers but Harry pretended not to notice. "He's not exactly encouraging anyone to—"

"HARRY!" bellowed Ron in exasperation, and was vaguely aware that Percy was glaring at him from across the chamber. "This is for real! Cynthia fell twenty feet off her broom and they've taken her to the hospital wing! You're playing in a live match tomorrow! You'd better get yourself together!"

The rosy fireglow drained from Harry's face and, off-balance, he scrambled and clawed clumsily to his feet. "Tell me you're joking, Ron!"

"It's not a joke, Harry, honest," said Ron, softening his voice. "Cynthia flew too near the Dementors at the gate and lost control. You're Seeker, Harry. You're Seeker in a real match."

.

~~~ Damp match ~~~

Wood took his own annoyance out on Harry, pressing him to practise hard every spare moment of the rest of the day. To make matters worse, the weather became even more dreadful. The rain which the high winds had summoned was heavy and by late evening there was no indication it would let up. Yet although Wood rose twice during the night to check, the windows were not yet frosting up, so that at least he considered to be a blessing.

On the morning of the match, Harry was dragged out of bed early so remained drowsy and glum as they entered the locker rooms.

"The Hufflepuffs have got a new Seeker called Diggory," shouted Oliver as the team made their way into the locker rooms. "He's really good and he'll have the advantage in this weather."

"Why?" yawned Harry. He ran his hands over the row of upturned school brooms in the rack, trying to find one that wasn't too bent or smelly. The bristles crackled and twitched as Harry thumbed through.

"Experience and his own broomstick — plus sheer mass. He's stockier than you, Harry. You'll have trouble keeping on course with this wind."

Harry looked at Wood through bleary eyes, anxiety creeping in to drive away his sleepiness. For once, he wasn't looking forward to getting on a broom and playing Quidditch. The other team members who were jostling him for the best brooms didn't improve his mood either. He grasped what he thought was a promising one but its limp whiskery twigs sagged badly as he pulled it out from the bunch and he hastily tried to stuff it back.

"If only I had a Nimbus 2000..."

"Yes, well, we'd all like one of those, wouldn't we, Harry?" snapped Wood.

The rest of the team had rapidly grabbed the remaining broomsticks and Harry had to settle for his saggy one.

Although the downpour had eased, there was still a penetrating, misty drizzle and the wind continued to gust heavily. Despite getting in a couple of hours of pre-breakfast practice, the match was a disaster for Gryffindor. Oliver's assessment had been correct: Harry did well to even stay on his broom. It was not at all like training. As Seeker, he mostly kept watch while all the exciting action remained in the dominion of the Chasers and Beaters. He darted about, high and low, but one place seemed as good as another because the Golden Snitch might show itself anywhere.

Forty minutes of drenching rain elapsed before he espied the Snitch — but so did Cedric Diggory. A great roar went up from the Hufflepuff supporters in the stands as Diggory inched ahead. Harry thrust hard on the handle of his broom to encourage it to a faster pace, hurtling over the muddy grass in a great effort to prove himself. Then he glimpsed Cedric's face from the side. Diggory's expression was as desperate as Harry's — more so, for Harry sensed in him the Hufflepuff yearning which always seemed diluted by passive acceptance. Harry knew that feeling well. He visualised all their disappointed faces if Gryffindor seized the Snitch right at their moment of triumph, and he screwed up his eyes to try to blot out that uncomfortable picture.

Harry remembered nothing after that. Ron said he had been flying too low, got blown into the ground, and didn't wake up for two minutes after the whistle was blown when Diggory returned triumphant. Hooch, who had been refereeing, insisted he be taken to the hospital wing but all he really wanted was a hot shower and to curl up in shame in his cupboard back at Privet Drive. Nobody could convince him he hadn't disgraced himself even though, deep down, he could not see how he could have done better.

"What d'you expect?" said Ron in a consoling manner. "Diggory's got his own broom and he's a good flier — not as good as you, of course, Harry — but still..."

Ginny patted his hand as he sat waiting for Madam Pomfrey to return with a test of the mud he had swallowed. Hermione looked very worried and sympathetic as usual and disappointed for him too. Harry couldn't look at her again.

"I'm fine, you'll see," insisted Harry. "Just shook up. Look at poor Cynthia."

Their attention was diverted down the ward where a girl with short blonde curly hair, the official team Seeker, grinned and raised a steaming mug to her lips in salute.

"Wood said she's got addicted to chocolate since the Dementor thing," whispered Ron. "Chocolate Flakes, chocolate ice cream, hot drinking chocolate — you name it. Playing it up a bit if you ask me."

"Chocolate?" said Harry.

"It helps with the after-effects of the Dementors, Harry," began Hermione, and Harry dared a quick glance in her direction now her tone was authoritative rather than doting. "According to Olga Brackwort, the cocoa content is naturally enchanted. It soothes the—"

"Harry, if you're lucky, Cynthia will be too fat to play Seeker next year," cut in Ginny with a smirk.

Hermione had opened her mouth wide, threatening to resume her discourse, when the Matron reappeared.

"Okay, you can go, Potter," said Pomfrey. She threw Harry's tongue scraping into a convenient bin. "A Quidditch pitch gets hit by a lot of hexes over time but all you swallowed was good, wholesome filth."

Ron grinned and Harry punched him lightly on the arm. He felt better already.

.

~~~ The Unplotted Chamber ~~~

On the Saturday morning of the Christmas Hogsmeade trip, Ginny and Luna were playing Exploding Snap in the common room. Harry had gone down to the Entrance Hall with Ron and Hermione to enviously watch them and other students departing for the village.

"He seems to be taking a long time," said Ginny. "Do you think we should go and see if he's alright?"

Luna shook her head of long, straggly hair that, as she leaned forward, half-obscured both her innocent expression and her played card from the inattentive Ginny. "I'm sure there will be teachers in the Entrance Hall watching that nobody sneaks out to Hogsmeade, don't you? Anyway, if Sirius Black is not Sirius Black then there's nothing to worry about, is there? Snap!"

With the tip of her wand she tapped the top card in Ginny's discarded pile. They exploded upwards then fluttered gently down to join those in Luna's heap which she promptly scooped up with a self-satisfied smile. "I mean, he can't be can he? Not if he's someone else."

Ginny blinked rapidly but let it go. She was used to Luna's odd claims. After another minute though, Ginny abandoned the game, looking rather worried. As she did so, Harry came in through the portrait hole. He saw Ginny's look of concern.

"I bumped into Fred and George on the stairs," he said. He looked around the common room, accepted Luna's nod of understanding with gratitude, then led Ginny to a secluded corner. "This is a secret but look what they gave me!"

He held out a large, very worn piece of blank parchment.

"What's that supposed to be?" said Ginny, unimpressed but curious. She knew her brothers well enough to be both respectful and wary.

"Watch." Harry took out his wand and touched the old sheet. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that Harry's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment to form a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labelled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Ginny bent over it. A labelled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study, and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room.

"It's totally brilliant," said Harry. "It's called the Marauder's Map."

"It's awesome, Harry," said Ginny. "We can keep watch for Sirius Black!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. Fred said we could use it to sneak out to Hogsmeade. Look — see there? It's a secret passage to Honeydukes! But it's much too dangerous. We'd be in so much trouble if we got caught."

"You're kidding me, Harry!" said Ginny. "Of course we must use it! We can finally have a Butterbeer in the Broomsticks and..." Her mouth fell partly open and her eyes lost focus as she gazed through the map into the distance.

"No way, Ginny! No way are we breaking one of the biggest rules in Hogwarts! You're not even a third-year! You might be expelled."

"But we could hide under your cloak, Harry!" Ginny's disappointment carried a hint of desperation.

"Even so... too risky. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."

Ginny looked up then into his eyes, drinking in his need for her and his concern too. With a hidden sigh, she pushed her dream back onto its well-used shelf to await a better day. Agitation then melted away, her shoulders relaxed, and the map became crushed between them.

After they became untangled from its folds a few minutes later, Ginny insisted on examining the map further.

"Perhaps we can find a disused room that nobody knows about," she said, "somewhere you can be safe from Sirius Black."

They investigated several rooms before they found the ideal one. It happened on the seventh-floor corridor. The two of them had been back and forth earnestly scouring the map for a perfect hideaway where Sirius Black could never find Harry, when Ginny, trying to get her bearings from nearby features, pointed out that the door they were closest to wasn't shown on the map. Harry confirmed she was right.

"The Marauders must have missed it." He examined the door closely. It's not numbered. I wonder where it leads. We'd better be careful." He looked down at the map again. "I wonder if there is a way to add more things to the map..."

But Ginny was already opening the door...

"Ginny!"

She didn't answer; Ginny had stepped inside and was too busy gawking to her left down a short passage. Harry strode after her then he too fell silent.

"It's perfect, Harry! Just what you need!" Ginny had been the first to recover.

The thickly-carpeted room was very small but a huge squashy orange sofa was plumped in front of a fireplace boasting a roaring log fire. Beyond it, against the far wall below a casement window, they could see a few bookshelves and a double desk with seats. A narrow cupboard was mounted high on the third wall beside a tiny, curtained window and below it was a table with a water jug on top.

"It's like a cosy little common room." A puzzled expression flitted across Ginny's face, "Whose is it do you think? One of the teachers?"

"Dunno, Ginny, but it's not abandoned is it? It's in use. I think we'd better get out before we get into trouble," said Harry.

"But it's perfect, Harry. Just what you need."

Harry looked around nervously then glanced back down the little entrance corridor to see if anyone had come in after them. "The door's gone, Ginny! We're trapped!"

In three running leaps he was banging desperately on the wall where the door had been — and immediately it reappeared.

"It only shows when you need it!" breathed Ginny. "This whole room appeared when you needed it! Don't you see, Harry? It happens when you really need it!"

Harry was sceptical. He opened the door and they went out. Very quickly the door disappeared again.

"So how do we get back in?" muttered Harry. "Let's do exactly what we did before. We were standing here looking at the map, right?"

""No, we were walking up and down thinking about the sort of room you needed — somewhere that Sirius Black could never find you!" said Ginny. "Like this..."

The couple exchanged excited glances when the door reappeared.

"But whose room is it?" said Harry.

"Don't you see, Harry?" said Ginny. "It's yours! Nobody else's! It's _your_ room! You needed it and the castle made it somehow."

Harry was slow to accept the hidden chamber but once he had, it became his favourite room. It was like a luxury cupboard where he could relax or study and do homework without interruption. Best of all, he felt nobody was at risk because of him; the magical room would never let Sirius Black enter. And Harry did not need to bend his legs when he lay down on the couch.

He stood on a chair to investigate the tiny window. It appeared to show only sky and he came to the conclusion it was not real at all but just for atmosphere and to add a sense of daylight.

"But that's good isn't it?" said Ginny. "It means the room is more impenetrable."

Harry nodded in agreement. He was used to being confined; it gave him a feeling of safety — secure from those who would harm him. He wondered if he could fit the magic window in his bag and take it home to his cupboard next summer.

They kept the room a secret even from Ron and Hermione for a while. But when Hermione said she would be staying over Christmas because she wanted to use the library, Harry knew she was only staying to keep him company and offer extra protection. And when Ron said he was staying too because he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy, Harry wasn't fooled for one minute. Ginny said if Ron was staying then their mother could hardly refuse her either. Harry positively grinned when Luna simply declared outright that she was going to stay so he wouldn't be lonely and to shield him from Sirius Black with the last breath of her little body. He was so immensely grateful he felt mean about keeping the room to himself.

Once he had shown the others, Hermione began raking through the library for any scraps of information about the room but without success.

"I knew it wouldn't be in _Hogwarts: A History_ but neither is it in any of the castle documents I've uncovered." She sighed then pursed up her lips while she thought more deeply.

Harry told her he was reluctant to let any of the teachers know about it so she let the matter drop. Besides, Christmas was soon upon them and there were other distractions...

.

~~~ Friend or Flight ~~~

Sadly, despite all his friends being with him, conflict arose for Harry on Christmas morning. Because they were the only Gryffindors there, as soon as they were awake, Luna, Ginny, and Hermione had scurried up to the boys' dormitory to unwrap their presents together. Harry had opened a long, thin present to discover a magnificent-looking broomstick. Ron jumped off his bed for a closer look.

"I don't believe it," he croaked.

"It's not a Nimbus," Harry said, equally hoarse with excitement. "What is it?"

"Only the greatest broom in the universe," said Ron, reverently. "It's a Firebolt! Who sent you that?"

Harry ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings but could find no indication who had sent it to him.

"Hey, Harry..." Ron gave a great whoop of laughter... "Malfoy! Wait 'til he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto his bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. "Who—?" said Harry.

"I know who it must have been!" said Ron, controlling himself, "Trelawney! She's probably bet her crystal ball on Gryffindor."

Harry cracked up with a fit of happy festive giggles so severe he almost dropped the broom.

"What're you two laughing about?" called Hermione.

She and Ginny looked up from the floor where they had been examining Luna's new ruby shoes. Luna was using her wand to change the colour of her socks to match and couldn't decide. Hermione struggled up and flopped across in her slippers and dressing gown to see what the commotion was. Ginny followed at a run.

"Wow!" cried Ginny, reaching out to touch the broomstick. "It's real. It's really real!"

"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?" said Hermione.

"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

Her face fell, and she bit her lip. "It's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"

"It's the best in the world," said Ginny, enviously.

"Well... who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.

"Who cares?" said Ron, impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it? Can I?"

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione, shrilly.

Everyone looked at her. Even Luna stopped changing her socks and peered intently at Hermione's expression.

"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it... sweep the floor?" said Ron.

"You can't ride it until you know where it came from!" persisted Hermione. She gave Harry a long and meaningful look.

"You think...?"

But before Hermione could answer, her cat, Crookshanks, sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest where his pet rat, Scabbers was hiding in his pocket. Ron pushed the cat down then tried to kick it away but missed and Crookshanks rushed back to Hermione.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," snarled Ron. His ears had turned red with annoyance.

Hermione glared back at him then picked up Crookshanks and strode huffily downstairs.

"Scabbers isn't looking too good, is he?" Ginny said.

"It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!"

Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him. Christmas dinner at midday in the Great Hall was almost as dismal as at Privet Drive, Harry thought. Ginny was trying to convince Ron that Hermione would see sense eventually but only Luna actually spoke to Hermione throughout the feast. In a strange way, Ron felt a wave of gratitude that she did and he could tell that Harry had noticed. "Nobody, but nobody, should ever be alone at Christmas," Ron murmured by way of explanation.

Late in the afternoon, Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks' attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry gave up trying to make him talk to Hermione and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. He and Ron and Ginny simply sat admiring it from every angle. Luna drew a moving picture of the broom with Harry upon it, robes blurring and flapping behind him as he reached out and caught an endless series of Golden Snitches.

While they were all admiring Luna's drawing, the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Hermione walked around them, sat down, picked up the nearest book and hid her face behind it.

"So that's it, is it?" said Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "I have been informed that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside-down.

"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," said Harry blankly.

"I see..." said Professor McGonagall. "Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

"W... what?" said Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said Professor McGonagall. "It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," she added. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."

"Weeks...?" said Harry, his voice shaking slightly then his head drooped resignedly. "Yes, of course, Professor."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring blankly at the empty space as if she might reappear. For Ron, however, this was too much, and he rounded on Hermione.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"

Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly. "Don't go making—!" Her gaze fell upon Harry. She had never seen him look so disappointed ever — but it wasn't just at the loss of his broomstick. By the way he was looking, it was clear he was disappointed in _her_. Hermione burst into tears and ran out the portrait hole.

"DON'T COME BACK!" bellowed Ron after her. He was shaking with fury. Harry sank down into an armchair looking at his empty hands which only minutes before had held a real Firebolt broomstick. Ginny sat on the arm of his chair and put a hand on his shoulder.

"For the first time ever, I'm ashamed of you two," said Luna quietly, and she was not smiling. "You have disgraced this noble house of Gryffindor."

Ron and Harry stared at Luna, and so did Ginny, each trying to make sense of what she had said.

"Have you any idea what is the most important thing in the world to Hermione?"

"Who cares! " cried Ron. "Books? Homework? Exams? Ruining people's lives? She's good at that."

Luna rose up from the rug before the fire and faced them squarely. "No, much, much, much more important than those. She values your friendship more than anything in this whole universe."

Luna's words stung Harry, and he hung his head but Ron said, "She's got a fine way of showing it!"

"Harry," said Luna, and although her voice was gentle, it was firm, "Hermione cares about you so much she was willing to lose what she treasures most — your friendship — to protect you."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, softly, but in his heart he already knew.

"Because she thought that the Firebolt was probably sent to you by Sirius Black!"

Ron snorted. "Then she's barking mad! And that was no reason to go running to McGonagall!"

"She didn't."

"What?" said Ron blankly. "She didn't what?"

"She didn't go to McGonagall," said Luna. "I did."

Ron and Harry were speechless.

"Oh, she told me she wanted to..." continued Luna. "She agonised over it but I went to McGonagall first then told Hermione."

"Then you're as mental as Hermione if you think Sirius Black sent the broom to Harry," said Ron.

"I don't — and I'm not mental one little bit. Mr Black doesn't want to hurt Harry. I think he's secretly somebody else. Daddy's still trying to find out his true identity."

Ron threw up his hand and roared with forced, dry laughter. "THEN WHY GO TO McGONAGALL, YOU GREAT LOONY!"

"There's no need to shout at me, Ron Weasley," said Luna, calmly. "I'm not deaf. I didn't go to Professor McGonagall for Harry's sake but for Hermione's — she's my friend too, you know. I thought her intended sacrifice was the most loving thing I ever heard of. She knew you would hate her. So, I thought if I go to Professor McGonagall instead, then Hermione would not lose you. I didn't know that she would walk in the door with Professor McGonagall nor that you would jump to a silly assumption without asking. I thought you would hate me instead because I knew you'd get over it eventually. But Hermione is easily hurt. Her worst nightmare is to be hated by her friends."

Ron stared dumbly.

Harry said, "But you've been... looking out for me... protecting me from Sirius Black. Why'd you—?"

"No I haven't. I just pretended to make you feel better because I knew you wouldn't believe that Sirius is really somebody else."

Ron shook his head. "You really are totally... loony, you know that?" There was a hint of affection this time when he said the word 'loony.' He braced himself. "Sorry, Luna... about what I called you before."

Luna smiled.

Harry was heading to the door. He paused and looked back at Ron. "I'm going to find Hermione and apologise. You coming?"

"What, now?" said Ron.

"Why not? She's probably in the library. Anyway, everywhere's empty over Christmas. Unless you want to wait till next year and apologise in front of everybody in the common room? Or the Great Hall? Or the—"

"Alright. Alright. I'm coming."

They found Hermione in the upper reading room. She glanced up as they entered then tried so hard to bury her face inside the book she was reading, Harry thought she might have bruised her nose.

He struggled to think up some words, his face getting hotter and hotter as he tried to set things right. "Hermione, can we... Hermione, me and Ron, we came to say we're really sorry. We were wrong. I hate myself now. ... Ron hates himself too." Harry nudged Ron and Ron muttered his agreement. Harry continued, "What you did — or rather what we thought you did — what you were possibly thinking of doing... erm... was to try save me from a terrible danger and that's erm... a good erm... caring thing to do so... er... Sorry, Hermione. Can me and Ron still be friends? We don't want to lose your friendship is what—"

Harry never finished for Hermione launched herself at Ron as if from a catapult and wrapped her arms around him like a blanket, hiding her tears in his shoulder. "Th- w- was so b- brave of you to 'p- 'pologise, R- Ron!"

Ron patted her on the back. "Yeah... erm, sorry, Hermione."

.

~~~ Catnap ~~~

For a few weeks into the new year, all went more smoothly. Eventually the Firebolt was returned with a clean bill of health. Luna, although completely unruffled by a slightly confused attitude the boys showed towards her for a while, was soon accepted back into the warmth of the inner circle of friendship to which she unselfconsciously said "I told you so."

Ginny and Harry were getting along fine. There were exams and tests coming up so everyone was studying heavily but most especially, Hermione. Harry let her use his secret room; it helped her to concentrate when there were no distractions and she got more work done with less stress. Then it happened; well several things really.

To avoid drawing attention to himself, Harry had insisted the Firebolt be kept secret and he trained on a school broom. But this scheme backfired on him. Although optimistic about being accepted to play on the official team against Ravenclaw, he was rejected because of his poor performance in the previous match. With Matron's help, Cynthia had kicked her chocolate habit and was, in fact, now fitter than ever. Prospects of playing Quidditch for the house seemed further away than ever.

Then, on Saturday, Ron found Scabbers missing and blood on his bedsheets together with orange cat hairs.

"I'll skin that bloody alley cat!" he ranted at anyone who ventured near.

To Harry, it looked like it would have been the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Ron was so angry that Harry couldn't see how they'd ever make up. Except that she wasn't there; she was in Harry's hidden room studying.

"When will you ever learn!" said Luna, crossly. She rose up from the hearth rug where she had been sitting cross-legged and approached Ron so abruptly that he took a step back and collided with Harry. She clamped her mouth together very tightly to show her annoyance before explaining. "Crookshanks has been with Hermione in Harry's secret room all morning. It couldn't have been him. Those hairs could have got there any time."

"But what about the blood!" stormed Ron. He looked wildly around for support from Harry and Ginny but she remained silent and Harry just shrugged.

"Ron, you know your rat is very old now." Luna's tone began to soften although Ron detected no dewy-eyed sentiment in it. "He'll be susceptible to all kinds of diseases. He may be coughing up blood. It might even be just a nose bleed."

"Nose bleed!" huffed Ron to himself, but the edge had been taken off his anger. "Where is he then? Where's Scabbers?"

"I think..." began Luna. Ron squirmed a little under the unflinching, earnest gaze of her bulging eyes. "Ron, don't take this the wrong way but... some animals, like elephants for instance, they know when it's their time... They wander off to find a quiet corner where they can be alone."

"Their time for what?" said Ron, vainly trying to visualise Scabbers sitting in a lonely corner, thinking.

Luna's voice dropped to a gentle whisper. "You know..."

Ron's eyes widened. "You mean... He's dying?"

Luna nodded. "So, you see, it's very sad. And one shouldn't upset Hermione over something she knows nothing about."

Ron nodded glumly. "You're right. Good job she wasn't here, really. I'd have put my foot in it and have to apologise again."

"Yeah, like last time," muttered Harry to himself with a smirk that only Ginny could see.

As soon as Ron had gone back upstairs and Harry and Ginny were clearly preoccupied with each other's company on the big sofa, Luna quietly slipped up to the girls' dormitory and cast a concealment spell on Hermione's cat which was fast asleep on her bed. Then she carefully hovered him, still sleeping, onto a large, illustrated edition of _Witching Deceptions and Misdirections_ and carried him to Hermione. There was a lot of explaining to do.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Good job that Luna's in Gryffindor, really._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	19. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 06

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_So far... Harry has discovered the Room of Requirement in the guise of a cosy cupboard-room safe from Sirius Black. There was friction with Hermione over Harry's Firebolt, and Crookshanks chased Scabbers who has since disappeared. Luna sorted out the misunderstandings but Harry's dreadful performance at Quidditch means he's unlikely to get picked to play ever again. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 19**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 6**

* * *

.

~~~ Stupid Quidditch ~~~

With most of Hogwarts abuzz about the coming match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was difficult for Harry to put Quidditch out of his thoughts. His poor performance against Hufflepuff, subsequent rejection by Wood, and Cynthia Blake's return to full Seeker fitness, all underlined the likelihood that he might never play again. At any rate, it seemed that way to Harry, and, tortoise-like, he withdrew within a shell of apparent indifference. When the day of the match dawned, he knew he would not be one of those watching.

Ron didn't blame him, of course. Gryffindor were so far behind on points that there was no hope of winning the Quidditch cup even if they beat Ravenclaw soundly — which seemed about as likely as Sirius Black meekly surrendering to the Dementors. No, at the end of term the cup would go to Slytherin, Snape's sneer would widen, Draco's jibes would increase, and the following school year would then be that much less tolerable. The mood was bleak in the Gryffindor common room.

"Wood says Ravenclaw have a new Seeker, someone called Cho Chang," Ron said gloomily. "He reckons she's good..." Ron's voice faded for a few moments then suddenly erupted into a roar of disapproval, "If he'd had the brains to put you against her then we'd have had a chance!"

Harry grunted and busied himself with adjusting the strap on his school bag. Within his stomach he felt a tight knot of emptiness but Ginny's dependable presence was his consolation and made the difficult days easier to bear. They shared a tacit understanding of alliance; that they remained together was a given. For her part, she knew he was being a prat but was willing to be an accomplice in his stance.

Hermione said nothing. She looked at the two of them for a few moments, then turned away with Ron to follow Luna and Neville down to the pitch. The common room was emptying rapidly. Harry and Ginny joined the flow soon after then headed towards his sealed, impenetrable room lest even a faint distant cheer through an open window disturb their shared morning. Wishes were not so easy to block out.

"Do you suppose we'll ever get to play on the team — together, I mean?" asked Harry as he and Ginny relaxed side by side on the hideaway's sofa.

"Sure we will. It just takes time." Ginny rose and took their empty goblets to the jug on the table for a refill. There was a clunk and a gurgle then, "Not that many third years get to play Seeker for their house and you've already played twice!"

"Yeah, and lost twice!" A slight movement of shadow made him look up. Ginny was kneeling on the table, blocking the window and craning her neck to see out.

"It's not real you know." His grin carried to her within the words. "The window..."

"Yeah, sure. Just looking if I could see... Just habit to look out of windows I guess."

She came back with two full goblets of apple juice and fresh straws.

Ginny became thoughtful, distant for a few moments. A shocking realisation flashed through Harry mind and he spluttered the straw from his mouth. "Aah, no! Did _you_ want to see the match, Ginny?"

""It doesn't matter, Harry. I'd rather be with you." Ginny's tone was matter-of-fact, as if it was obvious that's what anyone would want to do.

Harry stared at her. "Oh, Gin... I'm sorry. I never thought..." He looked at his watch. "Missed twenty minutes plus ten or fifteen to get there..." But Ginny was shaking her head — slowly so as not to slop juice.

He lapsed into silence. She hadn't even grumbled about it, he thought. Harry was used to the Dursleys complaining about every little thing and sometimes even about nothing at all. But Ginny...

"What a pig I am," he said. "I just took you for granted. I'm so preoccupied with my own misery I never thought to ask you."

"Don't worry about it, Harry."

She drew hard on her straw and swallowed more juice without taking her eyes off him. He examined her expression for a while then he put his own glass down on the floor.

"What?" said Ginny.

Harry was feeling waves of tenderness towards the girl but was unsure how to say what he felt. A vague memory surfaced that it had all been an accident: he had accepted their relationship only to spare her feelings. She was supposed to eventually drift away without being hurt. Then had come the unforgettable kiss up in the Astronomy Tower. Now it was inconceivable that they should separate.

"It's... nice being together isn't it, Ginny? Us two being... you know, girlfriend and boyfriend. It's nice."

Her eyes softened and she put her drink down besides Harry's. "I'll be a teenager this year, Harry."

"You're quite grown up now," said Harry then he uttered his deepest instinct aloud without thinking about it, "Ginny, I want us to always be together."

Her eyes opened wide and she lassoed both arms around his neck. "Who cares about stupid Quidditch anyway?" she said just before she kissed him.

They passed the time doing a little homework but mostly they chatted and so thoroughly enjoyed each other's company that Quidditch was, for the time being at least, utterly forgotten.

When Harry and Ginny returned to the common room, the match had ended, and ended badly. Fred and George were in an unusually black mood and had smuggled in cakes and confections and a crate of butterbeer to drown everyone's sorrows. Ron was more miserable than ever, despite Hermione's efforts to console him.

"Thrashed and trashed. We were rubbish. You didn't miss anything, Harry," he said.

Luna was more upbeat. "Oh, I thought it was good."

"We lost, Luna!" cried Ron.

"Yes, but doesn't that make it more exciting?" she said, crunching on a Cockroach Cluster. "Think how doubly-happy we'll be next time when we win!"

Hermione managed a weak smile. Ever since Luna had saved her relationship with Ron, she had been warming to Luna's quirkiness. Luna noticed her reaction and held out her packet.

"Cockroach?"

"Er... not just now, thanks, Luna," said Hermione, with an even weaker smile. She patted her stomach and blew out a long breath, pretending she had eaten too many buns and cakes.

"That's alright. I'll save you some for later then."

Ginny smirked at Harry but he was preoccupied. With the despondency around him he could not help but feel somewhat responsible. Guilt fogged his memories. If only he had kept his focus in the previous Hufflepuff match, he now thought, perhaps he might have reached the Snitch before Diggory after all...

.

~~~ Black Night ~~~

Harry had trouble getting to sleep that night and when he finally did he dreamt of 'The Great Golden Snitch', the mother of all Snitches, hovering forever out of his reach in a sky obscured by a monumental cupboard door that threatened to crush him. All of the Dursleys were hammering on the door with gigantic Bludgers and bellowing and shrieking at him to stop making so much noise.

"AAARRGGHH! NOOO!"

The shout was not his own. It awoke Harry with a jolt but he was glad to escape the nightmare. He rolled over, tangling himself in the floor blankets and bumped an elbow against his trunk. The travel chest obscured his view so, sleepily, he levered himself up to try to see who had called out.

"What's going on?" murmured Seamus when he spotted Harry's face, barely visible except for its paleness.

Dean Thomas lit his lamp.

Ron was sitting up in bed, the hangings torn from one side, a look of utmost terror on his face.

"Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!" cried Ron.

"What?"

"Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!"

"You sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" said Dean.

"Look at the curtains! I tell you, he was here!"

A chill went through Harry. It was as he had feared; he was endangering his friends simply by being with them. Wagon-trained into his corner by his trunk, Black would probably not have noticed him, he thought, but instead had turned to the nearest, most likely bed — Ron's.

McGonagall was fetched and in the days that followed, security was tightened up. Security trolls were posted outside the Gryffindor common room. It turned out that Neville had written down the Gryffindor password and that had certainly been the means whereby Black had gained access. Neville was in complete disgrace and banned from all future Hogsmeade visits for the year.

Although some of the younger girls appeared temporarily hysterical, it was Harry who was the one most affected even though he had done nothing wrong. He was forbidden to leave the castle building at all unless accompanied by a teacher. Harry didn't need to be told; he planned on keeping out of sight anyway, and had no intention of strolling around the grounds as an inviting target for a lunatic. He was more shaken up by the experience even than Ron who, with Hermione fussing over him several hours a day, quickly put the experience behind him. But Harry struggled with his own instincts to isolate himself again from his companions. As ever, Ginny tried to comfort him.

"If it was me, I mean if I were you, would you want me to avoid you?" she said.

She was right, Harry knew, but it did not make him more comfortable. He thought again of running away but he knew that wherever he went, people around him would be in peril. It was a miserable time for Harry.

The trunk and chair in his dormitory he placed in line and laid his blankets on top to make himself more prominent but it was very uncomfortable and he kept falling off when he turned over in the night.

He found it more and more difficult to sleep. Quite apart from the fear of himself being attacked in the night, he felt exposed. All his life he had slept on the floor, walled in left and right. Now he felt like a cocktail sausage on a stick waiting to be consumed by a crazed party-crasher. The continued stress affected his studies and the first to pounce upon him was Professor Snape.

"Potter! What do you call this?" Snape held up a half-parchment of untidy writing by the tips of his fingers as if it were contaminated. "It's shabby, incomplete, and fails to identify two of the ingredients."

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, meekly. "I'll redo it in my lunch break if I may, and take more care this time."

Snape stared at Harry with a puzzled expression. "Potter, you have astonished me with three years of good, dedicated work so far. You are falling behind in your studies but I will not tolerate loss of quality from you in the future. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor — and consider yourself very lucky."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

As they left the Potions classroom, Ron tried to commiserate with Harry. "What do you have to do to satisfy that git! One bad essay in three years! I ask you!"

"Perfect Saint Potter finally shows his true nature!"

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, turning on the Slytherin who had come out of the class behind them, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, so sorry sir, Professor Sir Snape, sir," squeaked Malfoy in a high, timid voice. "May I kiss your boots, please, Professor?"

Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

"Come on, Ron," muttered Harry. "Just ignore him."

"Wait till your girlfriend hears about this, Potter!" sneered Malfoy.

Harry spun around and his hand was reaching inside his robes for his wand. Over Malfoy's shoulder he saw Snape coming out of the Potions classroom. Harry relaxed his grip and his hand came out empty.

Ron snarled, "Yeah, well Slytherins are too pig-ugly and immature to even have girlfriends!"

Draco's face went several shades darker and his wand was in his hand before Ron could react. "Tarantallegra!"

Ron began to dance uncontrollably and the three Slytherins roared with laughter at his antics.

"Use of magic in the corridors is forbidden! You should know that Draco! Five points from Slytherin," said Snape with a voice as cold as ice. "And Weasley, I heard what you said. Ten points from Gryffindor for provoking him!"

"But—!" began Harry.

"Yes, Potter?" drawled Snape.

"Nothing, sir," said Harry, meekly. "But, sir, could you undo the spell on Ron, please?"

"No, I don't think so. Perhaps it will teach him not to go around causing trouble," said Snape, and he swept away down the corridor.

Harry helped Ron to the hospital wing but all Madam Pomfrey could do to ease the discomfort was a failed attempt to teach him a very slow waltz.

"It will wear off in an hour or two," she said but it was many tangled tangos later before the spell finally subsided and Ron collapsed in a heap on the floor, his shoes practically smoking.

.

~~~ Fresh Air and Healthy Exercise ~~~

Harry redoubled his efforts after the Snape episode. He was resolved never again to cause such a fuss in Potions. Any homework that Snape set, Harry now reviewed twice and got Hermione to look it over too before he handed it in. By this means he managed to stay out of trouble — but his health was affected even more as the weeks passed, and by the time Easter had passed, both Hermione and Ginny were pestering him to see Madam Pomfrey.

"You look dreadful, Harry," said Hermione when he came down one morning after a stressful night and little sleep, looking so listless and dark around the eyes it was hard to see how he could do any lessons at all — let alone do them well. She and Ginny practically dragged him into the hospital wing and Luna was sent to fetch Professor McGonagall.

Matron gave him a thorough examination then said, "Pepperup Potion and a good brisk walk every day in the fresh air is what you need, young man. Now the weather is warmer there is no excuse not to spend more time outdoors."

"Fine! Except I'm banned from going outside, aren't I?" moaned Harry. "How am I supposed to—?"

"You're only prohibited from going out unaccompanied by a member of staff," said McGonagall as, framed in the doorway with Luna, she took in the scene. "Arrangements will have to be made..."

Luna trotted forward with a hand wave but McGonagall paused darkly before approaching, her expression full of concern. She remained thoughtful while Pomfrey forced a spoonful of Pepperup Potion into Harry's mouth, staring right through the steady stream of smoke that came out of his ears. Ron sniggered though his amusement faded rapidly.

"I will speak with Hagrid," McGonagall said finally. "I'm sure you can find time in the mornings or early evening and at weekends. You must not stray out of his sight, Potter; that's an order. When necessary, I will accompany you myself to and from the vicinity of his cabin."

This arrangement satisfied Harry inasmuch as he wasn't restricting his friends from enjoying the fine weather and he welcomed the fresh air himself. However, he was still nervous about their safety even with Hagrid around.

"Hagrid's a half-giant," said Hermione a few days later as they sat picnicking outside the big man's cabin, "so he's very resistant to magic as well as being tremendously strong. He would be more than a match for Sirius Black."

"I don't think Black would dare show his face around here in daylight," said Ron. He sat back to back with Hermione on the grass reading a commentary on a recent Quidditch league match while she reviewed her homework.

Harry looked across to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Neville and Luna had wandered in search of any interesting magical herbs or tiny exotic creatures that might be found there. Occasionally they looked back and with whirling arms, semaphored their connection to their friends. Before them, off to one side, Hagrid laboured in his garden yet all the while keeping a watchful eye on Harry.

Certainly, Harry felt he could relax a little with so many friends around him on a sunny lunchtime.

I think that Pepperup has put the colour back in your cheeks," said Ginny.

"Sooner him than me," said Ron with a long deep chuckle. Hermione felt the warm, comforting shakes of his laughter down her spine and wriggled back just a little bit more luxuriantly against him, her eyes, for once, resting from study and wandering across the grounds.

A fat bumble bee droned by in the warm air. A pleasant breeze hushed now and again through the nearby trees. Luna came skipping back to consult Hagrid about a stick insect she had discovered on a beech twig; Neville followed more sedately with hands empty but a face full of satisfaction.

Harry lounged back onto the grass and looked lazily up at the blue sky framing Ginny's long red hair. She grinned down at him. Hermione once again began scratching away at her Arithmancy revision, occasionally plonking her quill into a small glass ink bottle. The combined hum of springtime soothed their senses and the distant clatter of cups as Hagrid made tea produced a welcome anticipation of refreshment.

A shriek from Hagrid's cabin made everyone sit up and take notice. Harry was on his feet with his wand out and so was Ron. Hermione nearly toppled over but managed to move her ink bottle before Ron kicked it over. Luna emerged from the dark cabin doorway, arms held out ahead of her but she wasn't carrying a tea tray.

Ron groaned. "Her bug just blithered or blubbered or laid an egg or something." He put away his wand and sank down again onto the soft grass.

"What you got there, Luna?" called Ginny.

Luna didn't answer until she was closer. "It's Ron's..."

Ron scrambled to his feet again. "Scabbers!" This time he did kick over Hermione's ink.

He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron's hands as though desperate to free himself.

"It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats here! You're safe." He looked at Luna. "Looks like you were right; he must have come out to Hagrid's hut to... Well, he doesn't look like he'll last much longer."

Luna and Hermione exchanged looks then Hermione busied herself using a cleansing spell on the inky grass. Harry lay back again and relaxed once more. Neville joined them just as Hagrid came out carrying a tea tray almost the size of a pool table. From his other hand swung a basket containing an assortment of baked items.

They contented themselves with the refreshments but only for a short while. Other students were already starting to drift back towards the castle for the start of the afternoon's lessons. Ginny looked at her watch and started to drink her tea a little faster. Harry had forgotten his.

"Here's McGonagall," sighed Ron, still clutching Scabbers extra carefully. He stuffed the rat in his top pocket and tried vainly to button it up.

"Af'noon ter yeh, Professor," beamed Hagrid in a pleased-with-himself kind of way. "All students present an' accounted fer."

"Thank you, Hagrid."

Hermione was putting away her papers in her bag. Ginny dragged Harry to his feet.

"Thank you very much for the tea, Professor Hagrid," said Luna, speaking for all of them. Hagrid smiled and nodded his goodbyes.

"Come along then," said McGonagall. "You won't want to be late."

She led the way with Harry at her side where she could keep an eye on him. If there was any trouble she would be the first to know — or so she thought...

.

—oOo—

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**Author's Notes**

_If you're enjoying this fic then likely you'll enjoy Weasley Girl by Hyaroo. It's in the Hogwarts years with the usual crowd but like Chary, it has one small difference that gradually changes everything: Instead of Ron Weasley there is Veronica (Ronnie) Weasley. Try not to think of her as Ron after a sex change but just a different female character who fulfils a similar role. It's very well-written and probably more interesting, more diverse, than Chary, at least in the first chapters so far._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	20. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 07

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_So far... Sirius Black penetrated Gryffindor Tower and slashed the hangings around Ron's bed. Harry, convinced that he, himself, was the intended target, has become very stressed and has difficulty sleeping, worrying about his friends being in danger if they are near him. The quality of his schoolwork has deteriorated and he has to make an extra effort to keep up. Eventually, his health is affected and Pomfrey prescribes fresh air and exercise. McGonagall organises staff escorts and is just fetching Harry and his friends back from a picnic lunch under Hagrid's watchful eye. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 20**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 7**

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~~~ Taken ~~~

As McGonagall led the group of friends back to the castle for the start of afternoon lessons, she did not waver in her sense of duty but kept a sideways gaze upon Harry. With the others marching and skipping along close behind her, she was feeling her age to stay ahead of the youngsters, but her catlike instincts had not wavered over the years.

"Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, clamping his hand over his chest pocket. The rat was wriggling madly. Ron came to a sudden halt, trying to force Scabbers deeper inside. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat? Stay still... OUCH! He bit me!"

"Is there a problem?" McGonagall called over her shoulder. She could see they had a fair way yet to get into the relative safety of the castle.

"It's my pet rat. He won't... stay... put..."

Luna, Ginny, and Hermione could all see that Scabbers was plainly terrified. He was writhing with all his might, trying to break free of Ron's grip.

"What's the matter with him?" said Ginny.

"Don't slow down, Potter," snapped McGonagall irritably. "We have to get you, at least, inside."

But Harry had just seen something slinking toward them, its body low to the ground, wide yellow eyes glinting eerily in the afternoon sunlight...

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

But the cat was getting nearer...

"Scabbers... NO!"

Too late... the rat had slipped between Ron's clutching fingers, hit the ground, and scampered away. In one bound, Crookshanks sprang after him, and before Harry or Hermione could stop him, Ron had pelted after them.

"Ron!" Hermione moaned.

She and Harry looked at each other and Hermione set off at a sprint in pursuit. But McGonagall grabbed Harry by the arm before he could follow and sighed. "Stay close, Potter. If I see you more than ten feet away from me at any time then it will be detention. Understood?" Harry nodded. "Mr Longbottom would you kindly run after Weasley and Granger and bring them both back. Tell them I said so."

"Oh! May I run after them as well, Professor!" cried Luna, bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other.

"No you may not," snapped McGonagall. "It's enough to have three students running around mindlessly five minutes before afternoon classes."

They watched from where they were. Ron could faintly be heard calling out, his voice carried to them on the breeze...

"Get away from him... get away... Scabbers, come here..."

There was a dull thud as Ron dived for his pet.

"Gotcha! Get off, you stinking cat..."

They could see Hermione almost falling over Ron; she had skidded to a stop right in front of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he had both hands held tight over the quivering lump. Neville was lumbering up to them, obscuring the view. He suddenly stopped.

They heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. Something was bounding toward Ron and Hermione, quiet as a shadow — an enormous, pale-eyed dog, jet-black in the blinding sun.

Ginny squealed. "Harry! I think that's what I saw from the lake!"

McGonagall reached for her wand. "LONGBOTTOM! GET OUT OF THE WAY, YOU BLITHERIN' IDIOT!"

Her eyes had widened in alarm and she began to run forward, surprisingly spritely all of a sudden, calling for Harry, Ginny, and Luna to follow at a distance.

The dog's jaws had fastened around Ron's outstretched arm. Hermione shouted and lunged forward. She seized a handful of the brute's hair, but it was dragging Ron away behind a tree as easily as though he were a rag doll.

Harry could see now that McGonagall's frantic expression was not only because of the dog but because of the tree — its great limbs were writhing through the air. He heard Neville call a warning but too late, Hermione was hit hard across the shoulder and she fell, screaming in pain right in the path of another great swinging bough.

McGonagall's wand whipped through the air and Hermione was dragged back out of the range of the lethal branches. Neville crouched down beside her, helpless to stop her cries.

The teacher's arm moved again. Harry swivelled Ginny by the arm to point out what appeared to be a silver-blue creature leaping from McGonagall's wand and streaking towards the castle.

The professor went to inspect Hermione's shoulder while Harry and Ginny ran after Luna around the tree, looking for Ron.

"He's not there, Potter," said McGonagall quietly. She cast a spell upon Hermione and the contortion of her face relaxed but she was still sobbing quietly with the shock.

Harry came back and approached McGonagall.

"Where is he, Professor? Where'd they go?"

"The headmaster will take care of this now. I want everyone indoors. Granger, you will report to Madam Pomfrey when we get back. Longbottom and Lovegood — to your classes now — RUN!"

Neville groaned. He was already gasping for breath but Luna bounded off like a March hare, leaping and zigzagging randomly so as not to be an easy target for Heliopaths attracted by danger in the hot sun.

"Wait up, Luna!" panted Neville hurrying after her.

"Like this, Neville!" cried Luna, jumping suddenly back a step then around in a semi-circle. "They're drawn to trouble in this weather but they like to move in straight lines."

Neville groaned again and staggered after the young girl. "I don't see anything there, Luna!"

Of course not, it's much too bright!"

McGonagall, watching, shook her head and sighed, then helped Hermione to her feet. "Come along then, Miss Granger, lean on my arm." The old teacher didn't seem at all out of breath. She turned to Harry and Ginny. "You two will accompany me to my office."

They set off, Ginny and Hermione trying to comfort each other.

"Professor Dumbledore won't let anything happen to Ron," said Ginny softly. "I'm sure he won't."

"The d- dog d- dragged him ... inside ... t- tree," sobbed Hermione. "M- must be ... how can they ... b-be in a ... t- tree?"

"Miss Granger," said McGonagall, as they approached the castle entrance. "While not wishing to understate the seriousness of what has happened, I should point out that things are not always what they seem — especially where magic is concerned."

McGonagall took Hermione to the hospital wing while Harry and Ginny sat waiting in McGonagall's office. The minutes dragged by while Harry tried to console Ginny concerning the fate of her brother and she tried to persuade Harry not to blame himself.

"You can hardly think this is your fault, Harry. It's just a wild animal."

The office door opened and Penelope Clearwater stepped over the threshold. Her gaze swept swiftly around the chamber then rested upon Harry and Ginny. "Is Professor McGonagall not here?"

"She won't be long," began Harry, "but she's very busy. She—"

"Look, this is more urgent," said Penny as she strode over to McGonagall's desk and seized a quill. She took a blank parchment from a shelf and scribbled rapidly on it, then, after blotting it dry, folded it in half and handed it to Ginny. "Make sure she gets that immediately she returns! It is most important!" She glanced at her watch and ran to the open doorway through which she disappeared.

"Pompous hussy! What's more important than Ron!" wailed Ginny. "Probably she needed to order more candles or lizard tongues for next year - yeah, like _really_ desperately urgent."

She thought for a few moments. "What if it's actually to do with Ron?" She inclined her head to one side and studied the back of the folded sheet.

"Ginny! You'll get in such—"

"Oops! It flipped open accidentally," she said, with mock concern. Harry could see her eyes moving over the message inside then she refolded it. "Just some poxy Aconite roots. Snape's had to go to Diagon Alley to get more and his stupid potion's ready!" Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust and muttered to herself, ", Merlin Save Us! Ron's carried off by a wild beast and all she's bothered about is—"

"I've been thinking," said Harry slowly, as if he'd not really been listening. "What if the dog belongs to Sirius Black but it grabbed the wrong boy? It was meant to get me! Perhaps he's not trying to get You-know-who to return — he's already in league with You-know-who!"

A chill went through Ginny. "But that means—"

Harry hastily added, "So he'll probably let Ron go when he realises."

Ginny began to cry and her expression was desperate as she looked at him. "Oh, Harry..."

Harry misunderstood her concern. "Don't worry, I think Ron will be alright. Suppose I go back there... On my own. Offer to trade myself—"

"That is very noble of you, Harry," came a soft voice from the doorway, "but it will not be necessary." Professor Dumbledore stood there with McGonagall. "Mr Weasley has suffered nothing worse than a broken leg and is, at this time, already in the hospital wing."

Ginny jumped up, drawing Harry to his feet with her.

"All in good time," continued Dumbledore. "First let me reassure you Harry that you are now out of danger — in fact, never were in any danger."

He raised his hand to silence Harry before he could protest.

"Mr Weasley will no doubt explain. However, I must caution you that it would be wise to keep this amongst yourselves for nobody will believe the astonishing tale that he will tell you."

He looked at Harry thoughtfully for a few moments longer. "Miss Weasley, if you would like to visit your brother, Harry will join you in a few minutes..."

Ginny looked at Harry who smiled his support and she went out with McGonagall, glancing back from the doorway as she did so. Dumbledore was inviting Harry to sit down again.

"Headmaster," said McGonagall from the door. In her hand she held Penelope's message which Ginny had just given to her. "There is the urgent matter of the Wol—" She glanced at Harry and lowered her voice yet emphasised her whispered words, "_...of the monk's hood._" She raised her eyebrows and Dumbledore nodded as if he understood. McGonagall continued, "You realise that Severus will not be back from the apothecary for perhaps an hour and the timing of the final enchantment is... critical."

"Forgive me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps you'll be good enough to wait for me in my own office — I'll be back there in just a few minutes. Do try a rum truffle in my absence. But I have to warn you, some of them are very rum indeed."

Harry frowned as he stood up and went to the door. He really wanted to see Ron. Perhaps it would not hurt if he ran to the hospital wing first, he thought to himself. He could then sprint up to the headmaster's office and get there before him...

He stopped and his eyes bulged wide open as if shocked by his own impetuous plan. _What's happening to me?_

As he approached the headmaster's tower, Harry contemplated the careless inclination that would have cost Gryffindor at least twenty house points if he had been discovered. He shook his head in disgust. Had the prolonged threat of death made him reckless regarding less critical responsibilities, he wondered. _Get a grip on yourself, Harry!_

His way was barred by an ugly gargoyle that glared at Harry malevolently. Harry tried to think back to his first day at Hogwarts. McGonagall had used a password.

"Peanut Brittle!"

The hideous statue remained stony-faced.

"Pear drops! ... Liquorish Allsorts!"

Harry sighed and palm-slapped his forehead. "Rum Truffle."

The gargoyle sprang to one side and up went Harry. A curiosity had taken him and he felt strangely eager. It was an excitement reminiscent when, as an eight-year-old, he had pre-loosened the hinge screws on his cupboard and wandered freely through the Dursleys' home while they were out. That he had paid the price then, he reminisced bitterly, had not completely dampened an inner yearning he sensed for something more than he had; something more than he could then understand...

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~~~ Memories ~~~

As Harry waited for the headmaster, he looked around his circular office. He had been far too preoccupied with his sorting to notice much when he had arrived at Hogwarts in his first year. The chamber was the most interesting one he had seen. Sunlight streamed in through tall casement windows illuminating a large bird with magnificent scarlet-and-gold plumage standing on a perch beside the door. Stepping to the chair in front of the headmaster's desk and looking beyond them both, he observed a wonderful glittering sword within a glass cabinet. Hermione had mentioned a sword once but he couldn't quite remember when.

Looking up to a high shelf that overlooked the sword, he espied the Sorting Hat, still worn and drab despite the bright, cheery light. Everything seemed very friendly and welcoming in the warm sun so Harry smiled and nodded at the room in general then lowered himself into the seat. His gaze fell upon the desk before him. A small dish of chocolate truffles stood out from the usual stationery items. Harry hesitated, remembering the headmaster's caution, but the more he looked at them, the more their silence seemed to shout out to him. He had noticed that before when you sit and stare at chocolates you are not allowed to have. But these were not Dudley's private treats laid out to torment him; Professor Dumbledore had specifically invited him to try one. He reached forward.

It was the strangest flavour he had ever tasted in his life, defying every attempt he made to categorise it. The sensation was like nothing Harry had ever known and seemed to change as he chewed upon the sweet. For someone deprived of vivid sensations for much of his life it was a challenge to absorb the intensity of the experience. He was not even sure if it was pleasant or unpleasant until he suddenly gagged and involuntarily spat out the confection which plastered itself crudely upon the sword cabinet where it dribbled disgustingly down the glass front.

"Aah!"

Harry was horrified. An instinctive expectation of Aunt Petunia's shriek of anger clutched at his heart and compelled him to action. He plucked off the sticky sweet and looked desperately around for somewhere to dispose of the mess, finally burying it in the ashy litter below the bird's perch. The bird tilted its colourful head and looked at Harry disapprovingly. The boy cringed from its critical gaze, aware of the rapidity of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart.

He was dabbing at the sword case with his handkerchief to clean it up when he noticed a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the glass surface He looked around for the source of the light and saw behind him a sliver of silvery-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet whose door had not been closed properly. Harry resisted for what seemed a long time then, glancing guiltily at the Sorting Hat but burning with curiosity to just take a peek, he walked across and pulled the cabinet door fully open.

A shallow stone basin lay there with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Harry did not recognise. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing Harry had ever seen before. He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it ruffling like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid — or like wind made solid — Harry couldn't make up his mind.

He wanted to touch it, to find out what it felt like, but over two years' experience of the magical world told him that sticking his hand into a bowl full of some unknown substance was a very stupid thing to do. He therefore pulled his wand out of the inside of his robes, cast a nervous look around the office, looked back at the contents of the basin, and prodded them.

The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast.

Harry bent closer, his head right inside the cabinet and all thoughts of his aunt's condemning stare forgotten. The silvery substance had become transparent; it looked like glass. He looked down into it expecting to see the stone bottom of the basin and saw instead merely a reflection of the headmaster's circular office — except it did seem rather odd.

It took him a few moments to work it out. It was not a mirror image looking up at the ceiling but a view from above looking down — he could even see the desk, and there was a figure sitting there.

Startled, Harry backed off, blinking for a few moments. He looked back at Dumbledore's desk but no one was present in the room at all except himself. He turned back to the basin. He could not resist a closer look... He leaned forward, tilting his head, trying to see. The tip of his nose touched the strange substance into which he was staring.

Dumbledore's office gave an almighty lurch — Harry was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin. But his head did not hit the stone bottom. He was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool.

Abruptly Harry found himself dropping down to sit upon the same chair before the desk that he had recently vacated but the sun must have gone behind a cloud for it had become quiet gloomy. Most astonishing was that Professor Dumbledore was before him, quietly sitting at his desk, reading.

Harry jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, Professor! I didn't hear you come in! The cabinet door was ajar and... I was curious as to what that bowl was..."

He waited anxiously for Dumbledore to respond. The longer he waited the more certain he was that he had angered the headmaster and he must now be ignoring Harry for his rudeness.

"I'm really sorry, sir. It... What should I do? You wanted to speak to me?"

Still the headmaster made no sound nor any movement other than to read.

"Sir?" Harry leaned slowly forward to look more closely. It was almost as if the headmaster was so absorbed in his reading that he did not realise Harry was there...

Dumbledore's arm shot out so rapidly that Harry fell backwards into his chair, alarmed that the old man was attacking him, but he was simply reaching for a quill. He took the implement and began writing in his book.

"Do you wish me to leave, sir?" said Harry, tentatively. There was something very curious going on and it wasn't only, as Harry now noticed, that the truffles had been replaced by sherbet lemons.

He looked around the room. The wondrous bird was no longer upon its perch. With a glance back at Dumbledore, Harry went over to see where it might have gone. This corner had become very dark but it seemed his abandoned truffle was protruding from the ashes. Harry guiltily reached out to prod it back down. At that moment the lantern above him decided its services were needed and it sprang to life, illuminating the scene. The truffle was looking back at him!

Harry staggered away and looked around. It was becoming even darker now he realised. Dumbledore made a gesture with his hand and a candle flame flickered up to illuminate his book in which he continued to write. Harry looked at the windows but there were no storm clouds this afternoon. Indeed, stars were beginning to show against a navy sky. Behind him, he heard a fluttering and spun around. An ugly little bird was struggling to stretch its wings where he had buried his odd sweet.

"SIR! WHAT IS GOING ON!" he whirled back towards the headmaster but he might as well have been a phantom for all the notice that Dumbledore took of him.

Yet, abruptly, the headmaster stopped writing and sat upright in his chair. Harry's attention was drawn to the book. The page was blank despite the inky quill still in Dumbledore's hand. Yet not quite blank...

Words had begun to appear, as if writing themselves upon the empty sheet. Harry's eyes bulged and despite his reservations, he sat down and, glancing at Dumbledore for any reaction, felt compelled to lean forward to try to read upside-down what was appearing.

_Hello, Ginny. I am so pleased you have returned. Perhaps now you can accept that Harry Potter will never care for you as I do. _

_In answer to your question, I assure you that I am quite real and not just a memory. With your help I may return fully to be at your side, to comfort and protect you. Only yield to me again and I..._

"I think that's enough, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Harry jerked back guiltily in his seat, astonished that Dumbledore had, at last, spoken. But the figure remained distant, his eyes focused thoughtfully on the pages of the book.

A hand came to rest on Harry's shoulder. It was another Dumbledore.

"Come," said the new Dumbledore on his left, and he put his hand under Harry's elbow. Harry felt himself rising into the air; the office dissolved around him; for a moment, all was blackness, and then he felt as though he had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on his feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of him, and there was but one Professor Dumbledore and he was standing beside him.

"Professor," Harry gasped, "I know I shouldn't have... I didn't mean... the cabinet door was sort of open and— "

"I quite understand," said Dumbledore. He closed and locked the cabinet, went over to his desk, and sat down, motioning to Harry to sit down opposite him.

"What was that?" Harry asked shakily, as he joined Dumbledore at the desk.

"That bowl? It is called a Pensieve," said Dumbledore. "I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

"Er," said Harry, who couldn't truthfully say that he had ever felt anything of the sort.

"At these times," said Dumbledore, indicating the cabinet, "I use the Pensieve. One simply syphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"You mean... that stuff in the bowl is your thoughts?" Harry said, his eyebrows raised so high they reached his tousled hair.

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry looked at the desk and tried to assimilate what he had been told. "But where is the book? Was that—?"

"Tom Riddle's diary, yes. After extracting the information I needed, I destroyed it in the Forest at the end of last term. What you have just witnessed was only my memory of it." He looked quizzically at Harry. "Takes some getting used to, I dare say."

Harry nodded. What he had seen seemed as vivid as if it had been real. "And... Riddle is... Ginny mentioned him once but I forgot."

"The one they say must not be named, yes. You should understand that Ginny was in terrible danger when she wrote in the diary. In fact, I must thank you, Harry; there is no doubt that you have saved Ginny Weasley's life and probably her soul."

"I did?" Harry was astounded.

"Furthermore, it is likely you have saved a great many lives by your timely actions."

"I have?" Harry's eyes were unable to widen any further but he rocked back in his seat.

"Oh yes. Like many young girls seeking solace, some consolation, Miss Weasley poured out her soul to her diary when in distress — but she was never drawn in as deeply as I later feared. It was your befriending and comforting her that eventually made the diary unnecessary to her."

"It was?" Harry's mouth did not close after he had spoken. He gaped at Dumbledore trying to grasp the significance of what he had said.

"Truffle?" said the headmaster, pushing the bowl towards Harry who was still gaping at him.

"Erm... no thank you, sir." He turned his head to one side of the door. There was no movement in the litter bowl beneath the perch upon which the large colourful bird had now been restored.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes — which is what happened just before my last session with the diary."

Harry swivelled back to face Dumbledore. "So, that — what I just saw — that was your final session?"

"Certainly. The diary could see nothing, you understand, beyond the words written in it — so long as one does not succumb to its influence. It was a simple matter to let it continue to believe that Miss Weasley was still writing in it. I was able to glean from it all that I needed to determine its nature."

"And what was its nature? Riddle... was he real?"

"Oh yes, quite real — not in the same sense as you and I, of course."

"But how did he get into the diary? And where is he now?"

The headmaster gazed at Harry for some time, his eyes seeming to pierce right through him.

"Harry, is there something you would like to tell me?" said Dumbledore softly.

Harry blinked and paused before answering. "No, sir."

"I was wondering, you see," Dumbledore continued, "why you thought Lord Voldemort had not been completely destroyed with the diary."

Harry gaped, wondering himself how he knew — and he was shocked too that Dumbledore dared to speak the name of the Dark Lord. He had not heard it uttered since that one time that Hagrid had revealed it to him. And one other time...

"Well, Harry?"

"It was during the summer holidays, sir," began Harry. "I had a dream — a very vivid dream — that Professor Quirrell was talking to... You-know-who, and—"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

Harry examined Dumbledore's expression before continuing, "Yes sir. They were saying that... Voldemort was saying to Quirrell, I mean, they were to return to Albania. He thought if Quirrell had found him there then others would too — but only trustworthy ones I think he meant. That is—"

"That it would be a good test of their loyalty rather than seeking out known supporters himself," Dumbledore finished for him. "Perhaps then, he is vulnerable..."

"He did say he was weak," said Harry.

"He said that?"

"Yes, sir. He said he was in a weakened state."

"Did he, now..." The headmaster lapsed into silent thought for a while.

"So... he's drawing together a new army, you think?" asked Harry, after a short interval in which he wondered if the headmaster had forgotten he was there.

"Eventually... but I doubt he will recruit too many by merely waiting. No, he has some other plan."

Dumbledore's wand flashed so swiftly that Harry almost overlooked it but the result was unmissable: a large, silvery-blue shape flew from it straight through the unopened door and disappeared. It reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall's spell earlier. Fawkes fluttered his wings briefly then resumed pecking at the last particle of a cuttlebone embedded in the end of his perch. As Harry watched, the tiny piece fragmented and fell into the litter tray below and the bird cocked its head on one side, disappointed.

Dumbledore said, "I think we are finished here now, Harry." The headmaster rose to his feet. "I'm sure you're as anxious to visit your friend as was his sister."

Harry knew enough not to press the headmaster further and, now reminded of Ron, hurried out to go to him.

Professor Lupin passed Harry while he was descending the steps outside.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" said Lupin. His puzzled expression indicated he was not asking simply to make small talk.

"Yes, fine, sir, thank you," said Harry, absently, his thoughts with Ron and what injuries he might have sustained. As he hurried further down on his way, Harry abruptly paused on the steps and glanced back up, but Lupin had already passed out of sight. Harry shrugged his shoulders and, after reaching the end of the gargoyle corridor, headed for the hospital wing.

.

~~~ When is a Rat ~~~

When Harry burst into the hospital wing, it looked as if Ron was already half through explaining what had happened to Ginny.

"It was Black's dog wasn't it?" said Harry, as he took a seat beside Ginny at Ron's bedside with Hermione — her shoulder completely healed — clutching Ron's hand as if she would never let him go again. Harry could tell she already knew what had happened for her eager eyes and the nodding of her head indicated she was encouraging Ron to take centre stage.

"No, Harry," said Ron sombrely. "Black _is_ the dog."

"What!" said Harry. Ginny seemed to already know this part of the story even though her eyes were wide.

Hermione could not, of course, contain herself. "You see, he's an Animagus!"

"A what?"

"An Animagus can turn himself into an animal, in Black's case he became a dog."

"So why'd he drag you into the tree?" said Harry. "What is that thing anyway? It's a bloody menace!"

"It's a Whomping Willow, Harry," said Hermione. "It—"

"We weren't inside it," said Ron earnestly. "There's a tunnel underneath that leads to the Shrieking Shack."

"The what?" said Ginny, bewilderment showing all over her and Harry's faces.

"The Shrieking Shack. You must have—"

"They've never been to Hogsmeade, Ron," said Hermione, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Oh yeah, right. Well, anyway, it's famous locally. The dog dragged me inside and transformed himself back into Sirius Black."

"Must have been quite a shock," said Harry. There was no sarcasm in his tone.

"Yes, well... you know," said Ron offhandedly, basking in all the attention he was receiving. He stretched out for a grape from the basket of fruit, nuts, and confectionery that Harry had scrounged from the kitchen on his roundabout route to the hospital wing.

"But why'd he want you and not me?" said Harry.

"He didn't want you — and he didn't want me either," said Ron slowly and mysteriously as if to dramatically heighten the tension which was already up somewhere near the ceiling.

"What!" said Harry and Ginny simultaneously. "Who then?" said Ginny.

"Scabbers... he was after Scabbers."

Both Harry and Ginny's mouths opened to speak but both were speechless.

"Only it's not Scabbers..." said Ron morosely.

Hermione smiled at Harry and Ginny's faces; they seemed frozen by their astonishment. She gave Ron's hand another squeeze and he continued.

"It was Peter Pettigrew," said Ron.

"Who?" said Harry very weakly. He had a dreadful feeling he had missed something somewhere during the conversation and was about to look very foolish.

"Didn't you read the Daily Prophet article, Harry?" said Hermione. "Peter Pettigrew was the man that Sirius Black was accused of killing — the reason he was sent to Azkaban in the first place."

"Not to mention all the Muggles that died in the same explosion," said Ron.

"No, I... Luna told me about Black... from the Quibbler," said Harry.

Hermione sniffed disdainfully but said nothing. Ron reached for a handful of peanuts.

"So Peter Pettigrew is in league with Sirius Black?" said Ginny, utterly confused now. "And they plotted to steal Scabbers from you? Why?"

"No both times," said Ron glumly, through a mouthful of nuts. "They are mortal enemies and Peter Pettigrew IS Scabbers."

Harry and Ginny looked at one another blankly.

"He's another Animagus, Harry," said Hermione excitedly. "All this time we thought he was just a rat but it was Peter Pettigrew."

"I could hardly believe my eyes when Scabbers transformed into Pettigrew," said Ron. "Black didn't look surprised at all; he was livid with rage. He was so furious at Pettigrew I saw my chance and dived for Black's wand arm — he'd taken my wand you see." Hermione looked at Ron admiringly and gave his hand another squeeze.

"We went down in a heap," Ron continued. "I expected Pettigrew to help me but he ran out of the room. The pain was the worst I've ever had. Did you hear me scream right back at the tree? It was suicidal but Black was really weak; all those years in Azkaban must have wasted him away. I got my wand but the pain was too much. I think I fainted."

Ron reddened a little with embarrassment at his weakness but when he saws Hermione's face showed nothing but admiration and concern he felt a little better.

"Then what happened? How did you escape?" said Ginny.

"When I came to, Dumbledore was there talking to Black, chatting like old friends! He said it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed your parents, Harry! He framed Sirius Black! Black spent twelve years in Azkaban for something he never did!"

Harry looked shocked and vacant as if he were trying to absorb all that Ron had said but it was too much.

Ginny was just shaking her head. "It makes no sense. If Pettigrew has been Scabbers all along, why hasn't he attacked Harry before now? They've been sleeping in the same room for three years!"

"He had no reason to," said Hermione quietly. "He was just hiding. If he had ever been discovered then Sirius would have been released and Pettigrew would have been sent to Azkaban for murdering all those Muggles."

"But what happened to him? To Pettigrew?" asked Ginny.

"Dumbledore and Black looked for him but they reckon he would have simply changed back into a rat. The shack is very run down — full of gaps and holes — he's long gone."

"Then... how can they prove that Black is innocent?" said Harry.

"They can't," said Hermione. "Until Pettigrew is found... Sirius Black is still on the run."

"But neither he nor Pettigrew is after me at all?" said Harry.

"No one is, Harry. Nobody ever was," said Hermione.

Harry let out a very long slow breath as if he had been holding it in for months then he jumped up and released such a tremendous roar of relief that Madam Pomfrey came out from her office.

"Potter! Any more noise like that and I shall have you thrown out, friend or no friend! Mr Weasley is not the only patient here." Madam Pomfrey stomped back inside her office and closed the door.

Harry cringed hard, clamped a hand over his mouth, and shrivelled down into his seat again. Ron stared undecided at his basket of goodies then dragged the whole basket onto his lap so he could examine his options better.

"Harry..." said Harry to himself.

"What?" exclaimed Hermione, looking very puzzled, as were the other two, though Ron was inspecting some very fruity-looking nougat bars shaped like troll fingers.

"Just wondering why Professor Lupin and the headmaster both call me 'Harry.' Nobody else does, not even Matron. I don't even know them. I mean, Lupin's always called me 'Harry' from Day one."

Ginny snorted and looked up and down the near-empty ward. "It's 'cause you're famous, Harry. Pomfrey's just over-reacting as usual. There's nobody else here to be disturbed... Cynthia?"

Harry stood up again then with interest for there, further along the ward, was Cynthia Blake, bloated around the face and covered in spots. "Had a relapse," she moaned then added hopefully, "You wouldn't have any chocolate on you, would you?"

Harry started to shake his head then, in a flash of brilliance, he grabbed the snack basket that Ron was hugging and rushed up the ward with it, almost dragging Ron with it. Ron managed to rescue a packet of marshmallow mushrooms.

.

~~~ Dead Match ~~~

"I brought you this, Cynthia," said Harry then, averting his eyes, "I was coming to see you after."

Cynthia's eyes lit up like a Jack-o'-lantern and a chubby fist reached out for a marzipan triangle.

"Must get you stress-free for Saturday's match, right?" grinned Harry.

"Duhm't reamy mammer," munched Cynthia joyfully. "Dem mamch emmymay."

Hermione was mouthing at him with a big scowl on her face, "Harry! How could you!"

Harry returned to the others rather thoughtfully. "She reminded me — it's a dead match this Saturday so we can't win the Quidditch Cup but..."

"We can still win a match against Slytherin!" cried Ron. "Pay Malfoy back for my dance lessons! He's not seen the Firebolt yet, has he, Harry!"

"And give you a chance to show everyone what you can really do, Harry!" said Ginny.

"What's a dead match?" asked Hermione.

"Technically, there is no such thing in Quidditch," said Ginny. "It's when you need an impossible number of points to win the cup. Gryffindor needs over six hundred points so even if we got the Snitch we'd need over forty-five goals to zero so it's as close to impossible as you can get, even against say, Hufflepuff. But Slytherin need only play defensively and grab the Snitch at the first opportunity. I'd expect them to put in their heavyweights and focus on defending their goals. It would be very difficult to pass them. They don't mind too much if they lose the match because they are bound to win the cup."

"Yeah, realistically a dead match," said Ron. "But Harry can get some good practice in and give them something to think about for next year. Wood finishes this year so there'll be a new captain in September."

"You know what?" said Harry. "This is perfect. I get real match practice without any pressure. Have to keep quiet about the Firebolt though, for now." He appeared thoughtful for a few moments. "Wonder if I can... erm... obscure it somehow? Paint it ugly and roll it in the dirt? Then if I keep the speed down a bit nobody will suspect. They'll just think it's a decent broom but nothing more. I mean, no point in pushing it to its limits on a dead match is there?"

"You could owl the makers, Harry!" said Ron, earnestly. "Maybe they'll know a few tricks about disguising it. After all, professionals use these! I bet when these first came on the market that everybody was trying to keep theirs as an ace up their sleeve ready for an important match. Quote your number! It's registered to you personally. Look on the handle—"

"Duh! Yeah, I know, Ron. Like I've only examined every square inch and twig on it ten zillion times!" Ron threw his empty marshmallow packet at Harry who grinned at Ginny and reached for quill and parchment. "I might ask them any other information they've got about it that might give me an edge... yeah."

Hermione looked thoughtful.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_You've been very patient so far. I promise there is new, original plot coming along. And my 'books' are getting longer. My Goblet of Fire is already three times longer than my Philosopher's Stone and I've not finished it yet. You guys are catching me up which is why I've had to start publishing new chapters weekly instead of every three or four days. I spend two or three days just polishing the current chapter before publishing so that only left me one day to work ahead. Some original action, adventure, and surprises to come as the story unfolds._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	21. Prisoner of Azkaban Part 08

.

_So far... Ron was taken by Sirius Black but after Dumbledore returns him, he reveals that Sirius was innocent. The real criminal is Peter Pettigrew in hiding transfigured as Ron's rat Scabbers and now fled. Meanwhile, Cynthia is again unfit to play Quidditch. Unfortunately, although Gryffindor might win the coming match against Slytherin, they are so far behind on aggregate points, there's no hope of winning the House Cup. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 21**

**Chary Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Part 8**

* * *

.

~~~ A New Team ~~~

.

Harry was exultant because with Cynthia unfit, he was certain of a place in the match. And now it was known that Sirius Black was not a threat, he was free to go outside unaccompanied by a teacher. He departed the castle secretly with Ron, and sometimes Ginny, to practise and train on his Firebolt soon after first light most mornings. The experience of freedom when he took to the air was a great joy to him.

"Woohoooo!" Harry streaked breathlessly past his friend. "Ron!" he cried, "If we don't make a big show of it, nobody will notice what broomstick I'm riding when it's half-covered in robes, will they?"

Ron was more doubtful and shouted back, "But don't push it so hard, Harry."

Harry pulled back alongside Ron's school broom, breathless with jubilation. "Y- yeah... wheh- well," he panted, "we'll save that for an important match next year. For the dead match I'll just nudge it enough to make sure I get the Snitch."

"And Harry, use a school broom in team practice or they'll notice for sure," said Ron anxiously. "It only takes one careless word..."

"Damn it, Ron... Yeah, I guess you're right," said Harry, a tad grumpily.

"So... my go now?" pleaded Ron.

"Erm..." Harry sighed. "Okay, sure, but Ron..." They glided down to a smooth landing and exchanged brooms.

"What?" said Ron, in the remote voice of someone who had treasure in his hands and wasn't interested in any other distractions around him.

"Take it up high out if sight if you're want to see what she can really do!"

Ron was running his hands across the polished wood as he settled himself into position.

"Ron?"

"Yeah — go high and fast. Got it."

As Ron rocketed skywards, Harry could not help but think these were the very best of times. The tedium of History, the stress of Potions, and the frustration of Transfiguration — all were pushed to the back of his mind along with the demoralisation that the Dursleys caused him when at home. He was young and free, and now flying gave him a sense of power over his environment that he had never experienced before. To ascend above the world's dangers and difficulties gave him an impression of untouchability and empowerment.

The pair of them had a lot of fun with the extra practise each day, but while Harry's eagerness soared, Oliver Wood's enthusiasm sank and his spirits were clearly at their lowest ever. He was not interested in winning this single match. The current year had been his last chance of winning the Quidditch Cup and now that was out of the question he was simply going through the motions. Most of the players were grumbling about him during the next official training session but two of the Gryffindor chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were particularly annoyed with him.

"We're here to compete, Oliver!" said Katie, as they all trudged towards the pitch. "I say we go all out to get as many points as possible. That's the Gryffindor way."

"For what purpose?" said Wood. He flicked a tiny tuft of dried grass off the shoulder of his robe. "We'd be unlikely to get a half-dozen Quaffles past their wall of defenders. Now if it was a level playing field and scores were even to start with _and_ if we had Cynthia, _then_ we'd have a chance of winning the game by getting the Snitch first."

"But Harry's looked very promising in practice," protested Angelina.

Harry, with Ginny, further back down the column of players, and trying to listen in to the discussion at the front, walked a little straighter and gave his girl a sideways grin.

"It's real matchplay that counts and he's been dismal so don't expect too much against Slytherin; they've got Malfoy as Seeker," responded Wood gruffly.

"But there was a storm last time — and Harry was riding Ol' Soggy — the school's worst broom!" cried Katie, coming to an abrupt stop and holding up the march.

"Does it really matter anymore?" snapped Wood, and he pressed on towards the pitch without them. Harry and Ron and Ginny exchanged glances. Fred and George were muttering to each other.

"Well if that's how you feel then why bother playing!" Katie shouted after him.

"Okay by me," he called back. He stopped suddenly and turned around. There was a tired look around his eyes as he walked back to the others.

"Yeah, good idea actually. Stick Weasley in as Keeper. The Slytherins won't be doing much attacking, if any; all their men will be down their end of the pitch."

Ron's eyes flashed in delight and he fist-pumped the air. Harry clapped him on the back.

"But you're captain! You can't just walk away!" cried Katie.

"Can't I? Watch me," said Wood, and he brushed past Katie and stomped off back to the changing rooms. He called over his shoulder, "You're captain now, Katie, captain of a certain-to-lose team. Good luck with that."

The team stared after him. Alicia shouted, "Good riddance!"

"Seconded," said Fred.

"Thirded," said George.

"He must have wanted the cup real bad for so long," said Ron, "but still..."

"Seven years dreaming of it — I guess it hit him hard," said Ginny.

There was no dispute over who would be captain and they all huddled around Katie, looking at her expectantly.

"Right! New strategy. We hunger for every point we can get no matter what the final result. That's what real champions do." She thumped her chest with her fist. "If we go out, we go out fighting! Right Gryffindors?"

There was a great roar from the team and so began the day's practice in much higher spirits than when they had first set out.

Much to Hermione's annoyance, Harry and Ron and Ginny talked of nothing else all day but Quidditch. Harry eventually settled down that evening in the common room with Ginny studying the official rulebook. Fred and George snickered.

"You can throw the rules away, Harry; we're playing Slytherins," said George.

"If you want to study, try this," said Katie, hefting a large book on Seeker's tactics onto the table he was sharing with Ginny. It was a late night for them both but at least there was less homework at this end of the year now that exams and tests were out of the way.

.

~~~ Points ~~~

On the day of the match, Harry felt very shaky at breakfast but Ron was surprisingly relaxed. "It's not like there's a huge pressure on us two, is it, Harry?" he said. "They won't be attacking me much and you'll easily get the Snitch first on the Firebolt. It's up to the Chasers to get as many points as possible to save face. They're going to have work really hard."

As they left the Great Hall, Katie approached them. "Ron, you're biggest enemy will be boredom and lack of focus so stay alert. Don't let in any surprise goals. Remember, every goal we can get off them will be hard won so don't waste them."

Ron nodded. "No worries. If I even see a Slytherin up my end of the pitch I'll be so astonished it'll wake me up."

"It's no joke!" snapped Katie.

"Okay, okay! Don't worry. I'll stay sharp."

"Harry," continued Katie, "You MUST remember, don't let Malfoy near the Snitch. DON'T grab it yourself until I signal you. However, whatever you do, do NOT do anything reckless just so we gain points or we lose the whole match. Got it?"

Ron exploded with laughter. "Harry Potter? Do something reckless?"

Katie frowned. "Got it, Harry?"

"Got it. Delay Snitch to gain points but not recklessly."

Katie nodded.

"How many points advantage you hoping for, Katie?"

"If you can delay Malfoy for a couple of hours then maybe we can get a hundred and fifty plus the same for the Snitch. If we can win the game convincingly it will make up a bit for losing the House Cup."

"Three hundred to fifty! That's the spirit," laughed Fred, rolling his eyes. "Nothing like being optimistic."

"Maybe if we can Bludger a couple of their defenders," said George.

"There'll be none of that," said Katie sternly. "We'll play fair and square. You're job is to defend our team and keep the Bludger within the vicinity of their defenders. While they're dodging and weaving they can't defend as well so it'll give us chances to score."

George muttered under his breath at Fred, "By 'vicinity' she means less than one millimetre, right?"

"I thought she said 'velocity', George."

.

~~~ Ace Up The Sleeve ~~~

Once the others had left, Ginny and Hermione went with Harry and Ron up to the boys' dormitory to get the Firebolt.

Ginny's excited expression fell away. "Harry... you've still not got a proper bed?"

"What? Oh, yeah, that..."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, you must speak to McGonagall."

Harry was shaking his head. Ginny looked a bit upset.

"Hermione... you're not thinking of going to McGonagall, are you?" said Harry.

"Someone should! Honestly, Harry, you really have to—!"

"Shut it, you lot!" barked Ron. "Leave it for another day. We've got a match to play!"

Hermione scowled darkly at Ron but after a few moments she nodded. Ginny kept staring at the blankets in Harry's corner of the chamber.

"So... are we going to stand around all day, or what?" said Ron.

"Erm... right," said Harry. "Watch the stairs then, Ron, in case anyone comes up."

He quietly retrieved the Firebolt from his school trunk and Ginny's attention turned then from Harry's sleeping corner to the precious broomstick. Harry held it up like treasure from a long lost tomb. They all fell silent. There was an atmosphere of almost ceremonial reverence as Harry handed it over to Hermione.

"Be gentle with it, Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione rolled her eyes then, taking out her wand, steadied herself for an unusual incantation. She flourished the wand up and down the Firebolt, muttering as she did so. When she had done, the broomstick looked aged: its long bristles were now uneven, grey, and shabby.

"Sorry, old girl," whispered Harry, stroking the end of the broom handle affectionately like a horse's neck.

"And you're sure its performance is not affected?" said Ron.

"No, I told you, it's just camouflage," said Hermione. "But remember, don't leave it about after the match because the charm will only last three or four hours."

"More than enough," said Ginny.

"Then let's do it!" said Ron.

The pitch was brightly lit by the morning sun which Harry knew would make the Snitch easier to see but the crowd was dull apart from the Slytherin supporters; they roared with laughter when they saw that Harry was playing Seeker.

"What've you brought that firewood with you for, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "Don't you know we play Quidditch on real broomsticks?"

There was a buzz going around their team and certain looks that made Fred and George very suspicious.

"They're planning something, Katie," said Fred. "I can smell it."

"Why would they? They're certain of winning the cup."

"They want to rub our noses in it — they want the match as well," said Fred. "Our Chasers have to score. That's our only hope of winning the match and of saving face with a decent number of points. If they want to humiliate us, that's where they'll strike."

"Well it's your job to defend us Chasers, isn't it?" said Katie.

"I'm just saying, be extra careful," said Fred.

.

~~~ The Cup Match ~~~

The twins foresight proved correct. Madam Hooch was refereeing and keeping a close eye on everyone. There was no score on either side during the first fifteen minutes. The Slytherin Chasers and Beaters all hung well back forming a near impenetrable barrier while Malfoy flew high looking for an early Snitch. Harry trailed him and kept close watch.

"Keep up, Potter," sneered Malfoy, from well above and forward of Harry. "Tell you what, when I see it, I'll give you a hundred yards start!"

Occasionally the Quaffle was hurled up to Ron's end of the pitch but there was no serious follow through attack; the Slytherins were using delaying tactics, confident that Malfoy would get the Snitch first. The crowd of spectators grew restless. The commentator, Lee Jordan, yawned audibly into his megaphone and was glared at by McGonagall.

Even the Slytherins seemed to have relaxed their guard when Malfoy suddenly made a dive for the far side and, though he had not sighted the Snitch, Harry swooped after him. Flint and Warrington were gazing idly across at them and a vulnerable opening had appeared between them. Quaffle in hand, Alicia streaked through the gap. Abruptly, her broom was dropping like a stone and she was hurtling forward without it. Flint was grinning and Fred said afterwards he was sure he saw him slip his wand back under his robes. George was nearest and bombed after Alicia as she arced downwards, squealing her terror. Katie screamed at Madam Hooch for a timeout.

Alicia and George hit the ground together with a thud. George's broomstick saved the worst of their fall but Alicia was out of it, lying on her back, moaning with pain. George could see her arm was twisted at a very strange angle. He himself was bruised and shaken but Fred pulled him to his feet and he nodded.

"Dislocated," pronounced Hooch grimly. "Hospital wing for you, Spinnet"

"Can't you fix it?" said Katie anxiously. "Surely it's—"

"Can't use healing spells in Quidditch," she said firmly.

"What about the Muggle way?" said Harry. "I've seen a dislocation pulled back into place."

"Tissue damage. Too painful. She can't play on."

"Right — we're putting Ginny Weasley in as substitute," said Katie.

"You can't put in substitutes for injured players, Bell," smirked Flint, the Slytherin captain, who was keeping a close eye on proceedings. "You should know that."

"He's right," said Madam Hooch. "You'll have to manage with six players once we've got Spinnet out of the way." She signalled to Filch in the stands.

"Think you can do it, Harry?" groaned Alicia between gritted teeth. "The Muggle way, I mean?"

"It won't make any difference," snapped Hooch. "You're obviously not able to play on."

"I can try," said Harry. "You sure about this? It'll hurt like hell."

Alicia muttered, "Just do it."

Madam Hooch frowned when Harry requested a towel and showed Alicia how to bite on it. He crouched down at her head and took hold of the offending arm and shoulder.

Hooch sighed. "You'll do more damage than good, Potter. She's not going to be able to ride a broomstick anyway."

Taking a firm grip, Harry rotated her arm then tried to ease it back into the shoulder joint. The girl's muffled screams were continuous while he worked it but he knew the movement and made it brief.

"Done, I think," grunted Harry. "But you can't use it."

He ripped part of her robe across and knotted it around her back to pin the limb across her chest as a rough sling.

Alica's face was shining with sweat; George used the towel to wipe it for her. "Get me on my broom."

"You can't!" Flint grinned as if at some secret joke. "You've touched the ground during play. You and Weasley are out!"

Katie was about to protest but Hooch spoke first. "Timeout was called before they hit the ground. They can play."

Flint scowled then shrugged his shoulders, swung his leg over his broom and took to the air again. Fred and George helped Alicia onto her broomstick but she was grimacing with pain and had to hold on with one hand.

"It's not going to happen, Alicia," said Katie, ruefully. "Sorry, nice try."

Alicia whispered something to her and Katie's eyes opened wide with surprise. She nodded slowly then spoke to the others.

When play resumed, the Gryffindors held back evasively for many minutes, protecting Alicia from further attacks. The Slytherins swooped and hollered and laughed their derision. "Wanna give it to us now, Bell!" roared Flint.

"Harry, will the pain ease off in a bit?" called George with a worried look on his face.

"Afraid not. It'll take days for the damage to heal," called Harry as his eyes anxiously swept the skies for the Snitch.

"Then where'd you see that trick done? Somebody at Muggle school got his arm done in?"

"Yeah — me!" shouted Harry, and without warning, he rocketed upwards as something glinted high near the sun.

"Substitute!" cried Katie, raising her arm to signal to the referee.

Hooch blew her whistle.

"We're bringing on Ginny Weasley."

Hooch nodded. The Slytherin team shrieked their disapproval but Hooch shouted them down. "It's a fair substitution for a flying player."

"But Spinnet wasn't really playing!" yelled Flint. "She couldn't even hold the Quaffle!"

"She's on her broomstick and she's up in the air. I call that flying," said Hooch.

There was nothing the Slytherins could do about it. Ginny was brought on and Alicia despatched to the hospital wing amidst a round of respectful applause from the Gryffindor supporters.

Harry and Ginny grinned at one another but Fred and George were more cautious. "Watch yourself, Ginny. They play rough."

"So do I!" snarled Ginny, "Let THEM watch themselves! Here comes a Weasley!"

The Slytherins were unable to play the same tactic twice and Katie managed to break through and score the Gryffindors first goal to much applause from the stadium. But Ginny and Angelina struggled to get past the Slytherin blocking tactics. The proximity of the Bludger kept near their defenders by the twins made it awkward for the Gryffindor Chasers too. To add to the confusion, Harry, seeing a near miss on Ginny, flew in, spinning around at high speed around the Slytherin blockers and scattering them. The Slytherin spectators booed; even the Gryffindors groaned. "Why'd they put Potter in as Seeker?", "Get a clue, Potter!", "Get a brain and get some height, bozo!"

"Potter! What the Merlin's arse are you doing!" cried Katie. "Get back in position! If Malfoy grabs the Snitch we're done for!"

But amidst the mayhem, Angelina had swept through and scored. The crowd erupted with screams of delight.

Seeing their defence in disarray because of his manoeuvring, Harry called out, "Let me try one more time, Katie! I've got everywhere covered. I can do this and I don't think I'll miss spotting the Snitch before Malfoy does."

Katie shook her head. "No way!"

But Harry had already corkscrewed into the thick of the scrimmage and his strategy seemed to promise dividends for it invoked disarray and confusion in the opposition. The Slytherins could not understand why his agility so exceeded their own, and now had to not only avoid the Bludger but Harry also.

"If that's a school broom I'll eat my wand," snarled Montague at Flint. "I think he's found a nippy old Nimbus 1700 in someone's trash."

Katie and Angelina scored twice more each then Ginny got her first.

After another hour and eight more goals down, Flint raced around to find Malfoy. "What are you playing at Malfoy! You should have got the ruddy Snitch by now!"

Malfoy glared back at his captain. "If I'd seen it I'd have got to it first, wouldn't I? Potter's not got any idea where to scout."

"Have you seen his mobility, though? We reckon that's an early Nimbus!"

"No matter how fast he is, he won't catch me while he's faffing around over there will he? The chances of the Snitch showing itself in the melee is low and as for catching it in all those twists and turns..."

Flint scowled but after another hour and five more goals lost, he decided to change things. "Montague, it's a tough Snitch — you've got to move forward and score."

"What's the bloomin' use of that! It'll just weaken our defences more!" cried Montague.

"Just do it, Montague!" roared Flint. "They've got nearly two hundred points and we've got nothing! Even if we get the Snitch — but suppose Potter gets it? I'm not bothered about losing this match now but we don't want to lose three-hundred-and-fifty to nil, do we!"

"But they can't get the Snitch with Potter fooling around like a prat can they! You know that!" shrieked Montague in frustration. "And anyway, we get the cup; there's no way they can get six hundred points!"

But Flint swore ferociously at him and Montague yielded, swerving away after the Quaffle with a resigned look on his face. However, working singly, he did not have much success against the three Gryffindor Chasers. When he eventually made a dash, Ron was over-eager but still managed to block Montague's attempt with an instinctive tilt.

Midday had long since passed and the afternoon sun bore down on the players and the spectators alike. The Slytherins called for a timeout and everyone took the opportunity to fetch snacks and drinks from the stall.

"Our luck is bound to run out eventually," said Katie to Harry as she wolfed down a sandwich. "I want you back on patrol after the break."

"Katie, I'll let you into a little secret — but tell NOBODY, right?"

Harry showed her his broomstick and whispered in her ear. Her eyes bulged with astonished delight. "You're kidding me, right? A real Fireb—?"

"Shush!" whispered Ginny.

"You knew about this?" said Katie. Ginny nodded.

"Even so, there's no way you can get to Malfoy in time if the Snitch shows up in any of his quarters. He's got height, Harry. He's covering all the high ground and he can dive to the far quarters before you can get there. You're only hope is in the unlikely event that the Snitch shows up in your vicinity and you're not distracted doing somersaults and loops around their defence."

"Look, trust me, I know what I'm doing. I've watched Malfoy and I know how to distract and block him. I reckon I've got a good chance of getting between the Snitch and him if it shows. Anyway, we want as many points as we can get, don't we? It's working so far. You said yourself that we can't win the cup but at least we can trounce them in this match. Think, Katie! We rub their noses in the dirt!"

Katie looked thoughtful then called the team together. "It's clearly a tough Snitch today. How's everyone holding up? Harry reckons he's got a good chance to stop Malfoy when necessary. I'm inclined to go with him but only..." There were groans from some but Katie went on to emphasise, "_...but only for the time being!_ Does everyone feel fit enough to go another hour?"

"My backside already feels like the floor of an owl cage, Katie," protested Fred. "We've been scraping for four hours. If you can substitute bums then fine for another hour."

"I just think of the Slytherins and all that extra weight pressing down on their brooms," said Ron. "They must be on fire."

"That is a consolation, I must admit," said Fred.

The girls were staring at the Weasley boys. "Surely you're using Star Grass?" laughed Ginny.

"Do what?" said Fred, blankly.

"Star Grass Salve," said Katie. "Honestly, guys are so dumb sometimes. Here, borrow mine. In fact, keep it. I don't think I want it back after you've used it."

"Here?" said Harry, nervously.

Ginny laughed. "Go behind the stands then. We don't want to watch."

The boys found a dark, shaded spot, a canvas alley connecting the stadium to the spare equipment area. But Harry had an uneasy feeling they were being watched anyway.

"Ron, did you see something over there?"

"I've got other things on my mind right now, Harry," said Ron, tentatively massaging in the salve. "Where?"

"Over there. I thought I saw something dark moving... Looking at me..."

Fred turned to George, "Amazing how Ginny sneaks around, isn't it?"

Harry yelled and hopped around hoisting up his pants much to Fred and George's amusement.

After play resumed it was more than another hour and still the Snitch had not been sighted. The Gryffindor boys were exhausted but at least comfortably soothed upon their broomsticks. Not so the Slytherins who were looking very haggard and weary.

"They don't know," grinned Fred as he watched Flint, wincing with pain, trying to ease himself up off of his broom. "This is the best day of my life — win or lose!"

But they weren't losing. Ron was inspired. A lot had depended upon him now that the opposition were attacking but he had only let in four goals all the long afternoon. The Gryffindors were cheering him on and now Ginny scored again. The crowd waved. They were weary but they waved and cheered hoarsely.

"Gryffindor leads by three-hundred-and-eighty points to forty!" croaked Lee hoarsely into his megaphone.

"We can do this!" mouthed an astonished Katie Bell to Angelina as the realisation finally dawned on her that the Quidditch cup — the actual cup not just the match — had become a possibility. "We need another twelve goals."

She soared around looking for Harry and found him zooming up beneath Bole who had to suddenly angle upward to avoid being tipped.

"Harry, you must think about the Snitch," she cried in a dry, cracked voice. "We need twelve but the Snitch is vital now. They're flagging but if we can hang in and get the twelve goals it's for nothing if you can't get the Snitch."

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry, As soon as the Snitch shows itself, I'll be there."

Katie began to wonder if he was still nervous of winning but she was much too weary to chase after him and argue. She took a pass from Ginny and spun around to throw it high up through the nearest goal hoop. A bleary-eyed Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, didn't even see her so low down.

"Gryffindor Scores," murmured Lee, faintly, and his eyes started to close sleepily. McGonagall gave him a nudge.

As if that was not enough to demoralise the Slytherin captain, Hermione's enchantment now collapsed, and Harry's broomstick's brand-spanking-new polished surfaces and long, crisply-manicured twigs reappeared.

Flint stared in disbelief. "He's got a... Potter's got a..."

Warrington completed saying what Flint was unable to. "Firebolt! It's a bloody Firebolt!"

Flint panicked after that and reversed his entire strategy. They abandoned their focus on defensive tactics and tried to play a normal game. He and his other two Chasers went into attack mode against the Ron Weasley defence with some success — but they paid a heavy price and double the goals in the next hour went to Gryffindor. Ginny was gaining more support from the spectators who were no longer seeing her as a second-rate substitute. In contrast, the Slytherin spectators were flagging. Whoever won, this was not the quick, resounding humiliation they had come to watch.

Without a word, Derrick, one of Slytherin's Beaters, spiralled down to the ground. He was aching so much he could not swing his leg off so had to let his broomstick fall down between his legs to the turf. He was still too stiff to even step over it and had to waddle to the end. He abandoned it there and walked, pole-legged and dazed, away towards the cool, welcoming shadow of the castle. George swore he saw his trousers smouldering.

Half of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw spectators had drifted away for their early evening meal; the remainder were mostly standing to stretch their legs. Katie kept glancing anxiously around for the Snitch, ready to shout a warning to Harry but he seemed too busy enjoying running rings around their opponents. She was too fatigued to think clearly. When the Quaffle presented itself to her from a tired-looking Ginny, her thinking was almost too muddled to remember what to do with it.

"Come on, Gryffindor for Merlin's sake!" came a feeble cry from the stands.

"Come on... _anybody_," came an even weaker cry from one of the few remaining Hufflepuffs.

"Throw it, Katie!" shrieked Ginny but her voice was dry and cracked.

Katie leaned into her broom and swept forward. The Slytherins defences had all but crumbled and Bletchley was lifting himself off his broom by hanging onto the far right goal hoop. Katie almost haversacked the Quaffle in a short, tired lob through the left hoop.

She looked pleadingly across at Harry who at last relented and nodded back at her. He was aware that Gryffindor's aggregate points for the season were now only one-hundred-and-fifty below Slytherins. They needed one more clear goal and the Snitch to win. Harry tilted his Firebolt skywards...

Malfoy, utterly exhausted but still clinging to his broomstick, saw Harry's move and was revived enough to whirl after him. Harry kept his pace slow and let Malfoy catch up, lazily swinging around the outer perimeter but climbing on each pass. But Harry wasn't looking for the Snitch; he was keeping his eyes on Ginny who now had the Quaffle.

Far below he could see most of their Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw supporters had rejoined the Gryffindors at the stands, still a little weary but refreshed by a good meal. Montague had somehow stolen the Quaffle from Ginny and drawing on his last reserves he threw himself into a sustained attack upon the Gryffindor hoops. But Ron seemed resolute. He flung his broomstick around in a desperate effort to thwart Montague and the bristles of his broom swatted the Quaffle from the Slytherin's hand. It soared in an arc straight to George who headed it into Ginny's waiting arms.

The Gryffindor supporters roared their approval at this Weasley manoeuvre. They watched Ginny weaving about as she streaked up the field, passing the Quaffle back and forth to Angelina but covered closely by all three Slytherin Chasers who, no longer hindered by Harry's Firebolt, were falling back to defend their hoops. Their single remaining Beater had effectively given up and had made little contribution to the game for twenty minutes.

Harry watched from above as Fred and George launched an attack on Flint who was blocking Ginny. Harry couldn't quite see from his height but it seemed that the Bludger might have clipped the back of Flint's broom bristles and caused him to lose control. Harry's eyes flicked sideways. Where was the Quaffle, now? Then he sighted it in the crook of Angelina's arm. She braked and swerved abruptly and thrust it through the air back towards Ginny. Warrington clumsily intruded and it glanced off his shoulder. Ginny heaved over to intercept the Quaffle's new trajectory, almost botched the catch, but finally managed to trap it against her body with one arm. She charged past Warrington then curved in for the kill. Bletchley now zigzagged forward, trying to distract her and gaining coverage of his hoops.

Harry didn't watch the rest. One glance told him Malfoy was staring down at the drama far below. Harry searched the open space around but could see no one.

He heard the distant roar of the Gryffindor supporters and he glided forward, his eyes back on Malfoy slightly below and behind him. Draco's head tilted up. Harry saw his expression change; saw the look of greed in his eyes and the tip of his broom slant as he accelerated upwards.

Harry looked behind himself. There it was: the Golden Snitch.

Spinning his broom around, Harry went after it but the Snitch was diving to avoid being caught between him and Malfoy who was now the nearer of the two fliers. Both hurtled down after it.

Harry kept pace behind Malfoy as they bombed down to the centre of the court. He could see Draco's frantic glances back at him and almost hear the abuse that was lost in the howling slipstream — then he ripped past Malfoy before the centre stand, became shockingly aware of all the attention directed at him as he was plucking the Snitch out of the air and... he fumbled it. The crowd groaned and booed: he was the centre of attention with nowhere to hide. He grabbed clumsily at the Snitch again, had a finger on it, but again, it eluded him. It rose, it fell. He kept with it, clutching and losing it until finally... he held it aloft to make sure Hooch could see it.

The roar of delight from the crowd and his team then assailed his popping ears and he coasted over to Ginny and the rest of the team to congratulate them. He didn't remember landing but he never forgot the pitch invasion and being surrounded by the shrieking, yelling, backslapping, hand-shaking multitude who were showering praise upon the Gryffindor team. Ron was raised high on several shoulders and passed along, all glorying in his performance. Ginny was swamped for her final score. Even Harry's odd tactics and clumsy catch were forgiven and he got a few sympathetic backslaps of his own. He cringed inwardly. Perhaps he could become a Beater in future instead, he thought to himself. After all, it was Fred and George who diverted Flint to help Ginny score the winning goal, and Ron who had held the fort all day.

And yet... why did he feel an inner glow that was not entirely due to just winning match and cup? Admiration was a sensation new to him but it conflicted with an intense desire to hide away from all the attention. Attention was usually painful; invisibility meant safety. It was hard to shake off a lifetime of harsh conditioning.

The Slytherin team and spectators looked utterly demoralised by their humiliating defeat. Professor Snape, who had watched the last hour with increasing irritation and disgust showing in his face, muttered something that was lost in the hubbub of the crowd and strode away back to the castle — though not without a threatening glare at Harry. Harry's sigh was knocked out of him by a surprisingly hearty backslap from Professor Trelawney who appeared delighted by the result.

"I knew you would do it, of course," she said as she staggered away into the crowd. "One cannot always be certain of the precise hour but..."

The Gryffindor Team marched into the Hogwarts hospital wing to share the trophy with Alicia Spinnet whose courageous sacrifice had made it possible. Nor was Cynthia forgotten because Harry presented her with a chocolate Easter egg left over from the holidays. Madam Pomfrey resigned herself to being unable to quell the exuberance of the students and allowed them twenty minutes of celebrating, particularly since the head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, was rejoicing with them.

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~~~ Confession ~~~

Later, In their dormitory, as they were preparing to retire for the night, Ron cautioned Harry not to take such a chance again. "This was a special case. It could just as easily have ended in tears. I didn't fall for that rubbish you told Katie. If the Snitch had shown itself earlier then nine times out of ten Malfoy would have reached it first. The Firebolt is fast but it isn't a Portkey. It's not like you to take such risks."

"There was no risk at all," said Harry as he gingerly pulled on his pyjamas. Star grass or not, he was still rather tender in certain places. "The Snitch couldn't have appeared earlier."

"Course it could... why not?"

"Because," whispered Harry, leaning forward and with one eye on Neville, Deane, and Seamus's sleeping forms at the other end of the chamber, "it was in my pocket."

Ron's mouth gaped open slackly.

"But I saw... I saw... Everyone saw you catch it, Harry!"

Harry grinned and watched Ron's expression.

"You... caught it twice? Merlin! Harry Potter caught the Snitch twice! Are you totally Barking mad or what?"

"I caught it in the first half hour — just before Ginny came onto the field."

"But they have flesh memories, Harry! Didn't you know? If anyone checked you'd be in such trouble you'd probably be—!"

"Flesh memory is used to test who got the Snitch first — like if two Seekers grabbed at it together or one Seeker grabbed it from the opposing Seeker. There was no reason for anyone to check but if they had, then they'd find that particular Snitch was touched several times by Harry Potter."

"You fumbled it on purpose?"

"Of course I did! I'm not that clumsy! Ruined the Snitch though." He grinned at Ron, leaned over to his jeans which were draped across his trunk, then pulled out the limp-winged Snitch. It lay fluttering weakly between his fingers. "Hooch felt sorry for me; she gave it me as a souvenir."

"But it's cheating, Harry!"

"Why do you think I was searching the rulebook yesterday? There's no rule against catching the Snitch and releasing it again. It's twice as hard to win that way. Malfoy had every chance to catch it both times because I released it behind me and pretended I hadn't seen it."

"Mental. Bloomin' mental you are," grinned Ron. "No wonder the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin."

"Did I say that?"

"Yeah, ages ago. You were trying to comfort my sister."

"That's right, I did say that," said Harry, frowning as he recalled the experience.

"Pity you're not crafty enough to get yourself a real bed." Ron smirked to himself as he watched Harry climb over his trunk and curl up in the blankets in his corner.

"This is fine. I don't want to cause any fuss," said Harry dozily, and promptly fell fast asleep.

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~~~ Aches and Pains ~~~

When Harry awoke he felt surprisingly comfortable — until he moved. A low groan slipped from his lips.

To remain motionless was a relief. No aches and pains troubled him then and the floor seemed much softer than normal. The lengthy Quidditch match must have taken more out of him than expected, he thought.

"He's awake!"

He could see it was still completely dark yet that had been Ginny's voice. _Ginny! Here?_ He tried to sit up and heard himself moan again.

"Lie still, Harry... Please!" said Ginny, pushing him back down.

"Ginny? What's going on?" His voice croaked dryly.

"Here..."

He felt the rim of a goblet pressed to his lips and he gratefully sipped water. Footsteps approached.

"He's woken up at last, Madam Pomfrey," said Ginny.

"Could you draw that curtain please, Miss Weasley? It's rather bright in here."

Harry felt fingers at his temples carefully removing bandages from around his head. Light flooded in and he blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings in the hospital wing.

"Who did this to you, Mr Potter?" said Matron.

"What? Quidditch, you mean?"

"That was two days ago, Harry," said Ginny.

"Mr Potter, you have been severely beaten. If you will tell us the culprit's name we can take appropriate steps."

"Beaten...?" Harry tried to think. After some consideration, the cup match did seem longer ago than yesterday evening but... He had vague tendrils of memory since then... classes, meals...

Madam Pomfrey was using her wand as the door opened and McGonagall came in.

"Ah, there you are, Minerva. I think he's been Obliviated - not very well done, but Obliviated nevertheless."

Harry heard McGonagall gasp. "And the injuries, Poppy?"

"Heavy bruising over much of his body and bloodied here and there but not as serious as at first thought."

"Thank Merlin for that, at any rate," said McGonagall. She directed her gaze at Harry. "Potter, do you not remember anything?"

Harry tried to shake his head and grimaced. "No, Professor. Are you sure this is not just the after-effects of the match?"

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "This is much more than a sore backside, young man! You'll need another day in bed at least."

The Matron pushed another goblet up against his mouth but this liquid was not nearly so pleasant as the water had been.

"There. A few hours should clear it all up."

Harry began to feel drowsy and very soon was fast asleep again.

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~~~ Pinning the Blame ~~~

"Draco," said Ron. "Had to be." He and other Gryffindors were sat near the open windows of their common room, enjoying the pleasant breeze and still soaking in the bliss of victory. Ginny nodded her agreement. Harry remained silent.

"We've no proof of that," said Hermione. "I got a good view of his knuckles at breakfast the day after and there was no sign of—"

"How?" said Ron. "What, you went up and grabbed his hands or what?"

"No, Ronald," said Hermione, with over-emphasised patience, "As I walked by he had his hands spread flat on the table top."

"Oh, that was lucky then!" said Ron.

"Yes... I suppose it was..." said Hermione, thoughtfully, then sighed as the realisation hit her and she conceded, "Of course — you mean he wanted me to see!"

"Yeah, it was him! I just know it! Probably wore gloves or got Crabbe and Goyle to do it for him!"

"We still have no real evidence though, Ron. Perhaps he knows who it was but wanted to make sure we didn't suspect him."

"Or maybe it really was him, Hermione!" said Harry, finally. "Paying me back for last year as well as the Quidditch disgrace. Which proves that trouble just causes more trouble."

The breeze picked up, a window rattled, and several students stood up, the better to catch the cooling air.

"But you never go looking for trouble, do you! They attacked you on the train!" said Ginny. "And Draco had a go at me in the bookshop even before my first year — you said so yourself, Harry when you defended me!"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and winced slightly.

"Does it still hurt?" said Ginny.

"Not really. Not much anyway."

"You'll be as good as new in another day," smiled Hermione.

"What about that gash on your arm? I reckon he put the boot in to ruin your Snitch-grabbing," growled Ron. "It's the same as... look, everyone's got a dominant wand arm and the other's nowhere near as good. Bill always said it was cowardly to try and bust somebody's wand arm. Same with capturing a Snitch."

"What's one more scar? At least this one doesn't show," said Harry. "Come on, let's forget about it. Summer holidays start in a few days so I won't have to see his ugly smirking face for a few weeks."

"Aren't you going to get back at him!" cried Ron.

"I don't want the hassle, Ron," said Harry. "Best to keep my head down then there won't be any more bother."

Ron and Ginny protested and even Hermione had to sit on the fence, "I hope you're right, Harry. I hope you're right."

"Look, he's had his revenge," said Harry. "McGonagall's got the Quidditch Cup on display. We won. Next year everything will be fine, right? Summers coming! Holidays!"

He turned his head away so they wouldn't see the dark expression that stole across it: no Quidditch, no Ginny, and entombed, once again, with the Dursleys...

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—oOo—

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**Author's Notes**

_That concludes Book 3 and by coincidence, I've just finished the final chapter of an advanced draft of Book 4, Goblet of Fire, into which this story continues within a few days. It's much bigger and you'll find more variation from the original material as that goes on._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Prisoner of Azkaban (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	22. Goblet of Fire Part 01

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_So far... Harry's third year at Hogwarts ended with Gryffindor winning the Quidditch House Cup but he took a beating from an unknown assailant. At least now Harry knows Sirius Black is innocent and is not a threat to him. But the summer holidays means he has to return to 4 Privet Drive. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 22**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 1**

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~~~ Poisonous Dream ~~~

Harry came awake with a start, his heart rapidly purring and his scar burning painfully in the darkness. He sagged back onto the thin mattress in his cupboard and tried to remember the nightmare that was already fading.

There had been a snake on a hearth rug... a small man with grubby skin; tiny, watery eyes; and a rat-like nose... and Draco's father with his pointed face even more pallid than usual... and then there was a cold, high voice...

"Perhaps bring the container next time, Lucius — but a promising effort, my slippery friend. Wormtail will know what to do with it."

"At your command, my Lord." Mr Malfoy bowed and stepped forward, handing the shorter man a small bottle that gleamed in the fireglow as if to draw attention to the darkness of the liquid within.

"And yet..."

Mr Malfoy stiffened and backed away to his original position, his tired eyes showing increased anxiety. The voice continued...

"I am told that you never looked for me, Lucius. You spent your time deceiving others into believing that you were respectable, did you not? It would have been better had you instead put all your efforts into searching and helping your lord."

The voice seemed to come from the armchair close before the fire. Harry winced as he tried to turn in his cupboard space, puzzling as to why he had been unable to see even the top of the head of the occupant of that chair. A child with a strange voice? A goblin perhaps? An invisibility cloak? Harry shuddered despite the night's sultry heat, trying to recall all that was said...

"Master, I was ever alert. If there had been any indication of where you might be, I would have come to you instantly—"

"I am displeased... From now on I shall look for more from you, Lucius."

"Yes, my Lord, of course... You are merciful, thank you..."

Harry sat up, wiped his glistening forehead with the back of his pyjama sleeve, then reached for his glasses. It was stiflingly in his cupboard and he wished he could freely walk out into the cool night air to help himself think. The dream had seemed so vivid. What did it mean and why was Mr Malfoy in it? What if Draco had informed his father of his humiliation at Quidditch? Might they be planning to poison Harry? Then there was that strange name, 'Wormtail.' He felt sure he had seen that name somewhere. Or perhaps it had only been, after all, merely an ordinary dream driven by that last forgotten pickled onion he had scrounged while washing the dishes. He sank back drowsily onto his thin pallet...

.

~~~ Tunnel Vision ~~~

A groan escaped Harry's lips when the sounds of morning finally woke him: a clatter of cereal bowls, the clink of a teacup, the click of his door being unlocked. He felt dreadful. Apart from being completely unrefreshed because of lack of sleep, he was drained of energy and his limbs were aching from being wedged sideways at an angle most of the night. Stiff-legged, he clambered out of his cell and hobbled, scowling, into the kitchen.

"I can cure you of that bad mood, boy!" snarled Harry's uncle. "When you've helped make breakfast, change the light bulb on the landing and while we're at Aunt Marge's you can paint that back fence before we return — two coats or else. Oh, and make sure you mow the lawn every four days through the summer."

"But..."

Three heads swivelled in Harry's direction: Dudley's showing eagerness, Aunt Petunia's astonishment and challenge.

"What did you say?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"Nothing," muttered Harry, his mild protest quickly abandoned, then he mumbled near inaudibly, "Sorry, Uncle."

"Speak up, boy!" bellowed his uncle.

"Sorry, Uncle."

Aunt Petunia returned to cutting a grapefruit into quarters. Vernon Dursley rustled the morning's Daily Mail in consternation before slowly lowering his glare to continue reading about the country's economic progress.

Thus dismissed, Harry dejectedly resigned himself out of habit to comply but for some curious reason he could hear Hermione's voice in his head, _Harry, you should have stood up to them!_ She had been tearful with emotion when she had said those words and Harry felt ashamed of himself. He looked at his uncle. Perhaps he could at least try to negotiate?

Mr Dursley shifted in his chair and slapped his newspaper disdainfully with the back of his hand. "Recovery? What bloomin' recovery! Everyone's scraping by... burdened with taxes..." Here, he glared at Harry but was distracted by the spare wide screen colour television mounted in the wall recess above the dishwasher and mega-freezer.

_That concludes today's news. Coming up, Henry Carter-Borrocks discusses tonight's pre-watershed screening of Flack-bloodied Screamers versus the Scourge of Gougezilla; is it wrong to glorify violence, and is it really appropriate for six-year-olds?_

"YES!" Dudley fist-pumped "The one we've all been waiting for, especially..." He turned with malicious glee to Harry who was pretending to take no notice. "Harry won't be seeing this, will he, Dad?"

Mr Dursley shook out a new page in his daily. "I told you, _we'll_ be watching it at Aunt Marge's and I'll be removing the plug from our TV and taking it with us." He sneered sideways at Harry. "There'll be no squandering of electricity in this house while we're out."

Dudley looked for the disappointment in Harry's expression but Harry gave him nothing; he well knew how to fit and remove another electric plug. Instead, he tried to concentrate on what he was about to do.

Harry began to work himself up, to prepare himself for a monumental effort that tore at every instinct that had been drilled into him since he was one year old. He needed a proper bedroom with room to stretch if he was not to grow up bent and twisted in body as well as mind. And if he was committed to mowing the lawn through the holidays he wouldn't be able to go if the Weasleys asked him to come and stay — and he earnestly was hoping to see Ginny. He knitted his brow, thinking furiously about what he should demand. The kitchen seemed to blur away from him as he focused on the bloated, fat-jowled man who had fearfully dominated every day of his life that he could remember. He took a deep breath.

"Dad, Harry's looking very... odd," said Dudley abruptly.

Uncle Vernon's large red face tilted up irritably. "What d'you think you're doing, boy? Laying an egg for breakfast? Help your Aunt Petunia with the toast!"

"Yes, Uncle. Sorry, Uncle."

.

~~~ Light at the End of the Tunnel ~~~

The flimsy aluminium stepladder, Harry regarded with suspicion and trepidation. It felt rickety when he placed it in position even before he stepped onto it. Normally it would be up against a wall or window which gave him some sense of security but in the middle of the landing overlooking the stairwell there was nothing to grab at should the ladder wobble. The best he could do was to wedge one of its feet against a vertical rail of the banister.

And wobble it did. The red flowery carpet was at its thickest here off the main beaten track, and this did not help the ladder's stability. Harry, of course, was used to heights. He had regularly risen hundreds of feet into the air on his Firebolt without any qualms. This was different. A broomstick became an extension of one's magical influence, part of oneself; the wizard turned and twisted in unison with it, riding the air safely. In contrast, the stepladder fought Harry every inch of the way; it resented and resisted him, he felt sure. One hand held the new light bulb, the other clutched at the step above. Then there was Dudley...

"Going up in the world, at last, Harry?" smirked his cousin, pushing past on his way to the bathroom and giving the steps an unnecessary nudge.

"Dudley!"

Harry pressed the side of his bulb-carrying hand against the ladder to steady himself, then proceeded upwards. It didn't help that he was one-handed — and if he dropped the bulb then there would be hell to pay afterwards. His free hand reached the top; there were neither higher steps nor handrail to grasp...

It was gloomy with all the bedroom doors shut — the only light came from a small skylight that was unfortunately skewed off to one side of the ceiling. Although slightly open to let the hot summer air rise out of the house, it was not helping Harry's sweaty palms at all. He took a deep breath, released the last highest grip, and proceeded upwards balanced only by the soles of his feet on the narrow steps. The ladder swayed increasingly as he ascended until he felt forced to lean forward slightly to painfully press the lower part of his shins against the next step in an effort to steady himself. One step from the top he felt he might just reach the light socket. Below him was a dead drop to the front hall carpet. The upside-down 'Welcome' sign on the doormat did not encourage him.

As he reached upwards into an unclutchable void, Harry became aware that the bathroom door was slightly ajar. Dudley came stampeding out like a bull elephant, tusk-like arms outstretched ahead of him ready to grasp the stepladder and shake a fright into Harry perched at the top like a clumsy stork on a corroded television aerial mast.

"WHOOO!"

One of his cousin's rubber-soled trainers jammed his charge across the carpet's thick pile so that as he snatched at the ladder he swung around it to crash into the balustrade which then splintered and lurched out over the hall below. The railing held — just — but Dudley's momentum rolled him over. Harry saw the colourful patterned soles of his cousin's trainers swinging over his fat behind, heard him squeal like a piglet in a lion's maw, and instinctively but vainly reached out to grab him as his cousin flew out into mid-air.

The light bulb spun from Harry's opened hand to arc after his cousin's drop. There was a bang and a puff — but it was not the bulb. Through his reaching fingers, Harry saw a cloud of what appeared to be tiny shimmering angels, grey and white and silver, erupt into being below the face-down Dudley, breaking his fall as if it were a heavenly airbag floating over the hallway carpet.

_"Conjured fairies?_ thought Harry.

Simultaneously with Harry's surprised cry, Vernon Dudley exploded out from the kitchen doorway to see what the racket was all about, followed by a frantic Aunt Petunia. "Dinky Duddydums!" They stared at their son whose vast bulk seemed to them to be held up by nothing but a cloud of deformed dragonflies.

The moment the gaze of adult Muggles fell upon them, the fairy folk became naught but dissipating vapour, leaving Dudley to fall the last few feet and bang his nose in the twill. "OW!" The new light bulb hit him on the back of the head, smashing with a loud pop. As he tried to look up, a big, colourfully-patterned junk mail postcard came through the front door and struck him in the eye, evoking another yell of pain followed by a sustained wail.

"YOU, BOY!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, turning his attention upwards to view Harry, arms flailing, tottering high above on the precariously-leaning stepladder, holding on only by the very top step cutting into the front of his ankles. "DOWN HERE, NOW!"

While Aunt Petunia fussed and led the moaning Dudley into the kitchen, Harry descended and braced himself.

"Harry was making demons carry me away..." whined Dudley faintly through the doorway.

"What have I told you about using..." — Mr Dursley spluttered and tried to mangle his words into something speakable — "unnatural... I will not have..." Unable to vocalise the unmentionable, he took a new direction, "You attack our son with your...!" He gave up. "CUPBOARD! And clean up this broken glass first. You can buy a new light bulb out of your..."

_Out of what? You don't give me any pocket money!_ Harry visualised himself shouting — but he bottled it up, fuming bitterly. He trudged past Aunt Petunia's glare and Dudley's malicious gleam to get the dustpan then returned to clean up the mess in the hall. After scraping the broken remnants into the pan using the big postcard, he dumped the shards into the kitchen swing bin with an angry crash.

"There will be no... funny business in this house!" Uncle Vernon continued to storm. "You were supposed to practice your silly weird behaviour at school with your creepy friends, not—!"

"They're not..." blurted Harry then clamped his hand over his mouth but Mr Dursley could see he had struck a nerve.

"Oh, yes! I've seen you hanging about with them! At King's Cross! That bossy, buck-toothed beaver-headed know-it-all and that grotesque, freaky, spotty girl with long ruddy hair right down to her arse— And as for that—!"

"Her teeth have been fixed for ages! And those are NOT spots, they're FRECKLES! And she's NOT GROTESQUE! SHE'S NICE! SOMETHING YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT!"

"Why, you ungrateful little...!" shrilled Aunt Petunia. "We feed you, and clothe you, and shelter you, and all you can do is try to murder our poor little Duddikins! You deserve to be—"

"I PROBABLY SAVED HIS LIFE!" shouted Harry at the top of his lungs. "MY MAGIC..." — here Uncle Vernon turned a horrible shade of beetroot which incited Harry to repeat and emphasise his words — "YES, MY **MAGIC** STOPPED HIM BREAKING HIS STUPID NECK!"

"THERE... IS... NO... SUCH... THING... AS...!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, running out of breath on the final word so that it came out as an exhausted wheeze. "You will not use that word in this house! CUPBOARD! FOREVER!"

"FINE! THEN I HOPE YOU'RE ALL DYING REAL SOON BECAUSE I WON'T LIFT A FINGER TO HELP ANY OF YOU AGAIN!" It was out before Harry could stop himself.

Mr Dursley's fat piggy eyes almost popped out of his head. His jaw fell open like a broken trapdoor. "WHAT... DID... YOU... SAY!"

He grabbed Harry by the arm and hustled him back into the hall where he threw him into the cupboard under the stairs and slammed the door.

Harry lay back, fuming hard, listening to Mr Dursley huffing and puffing and muttering to himself as he locked and bolted the cupboard. The man gave the door a parting kick then could be heard retreating heavily back to the kitchen.

It was some time before Harry realised he still had the junk mail postcard furiously screwed up in his fist. He was about to fling it irritably into a corner when he realised it wasn't a card at all — it was an envelope stiffened by dozens of postage stamps that covered every inch of its surface except the address. The writing was tiny but he recognised it. The letter was from Mrs Weasley and it was addressed to the Dursleys.

Harry stared, caught off balance by having Ron's mum and a seething hatred both in his mind at the same time. For several seconds the savage temper still gripped him, then he tore open the envelope, aware as he did so that he had crossed some kind of line.

_Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley, _

_We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron. _

_As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. _

_I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school. _

_It would be best for Harry to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is. _

_Hoping to see Harry soon, _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Molly Weasley _

_P.S. I do hope we've put enough stamps on._

It was as if two alien continents drifted and touched; the routine, mundane Muggle world containing his earliest terrors and endless, simmering hatred, and another world entirely, full of excitement and magic, where witches and wizards flew around on broomsticks for sport, a place of deep friendship being shared, the future full of infinite possibilities... and where Ginny Weasley awaited him... He stepped over.

Never again, he resolved, would he yield sheepishly to the Dursleys. He had no thought yet how he might achieve that, especially imprisoned indefinitely without any means of sending out a message for help nor able to use controlled, wand magic without the underage trace alerting the Ministry. Nevertheless, he reached into his school bag and took out quill, ink, and parchment...

.

~~~ A Visitation ~~~

Harry lay sweltering. It was stifling in the cupboard and he was already desperately thirsty only a few hours after he had heard the Dursleys depart on their day trip, banging the door hard behind them in defiance as they left. To add to his misery, they had left the television on in the living room with sufficient volume that he could hear it was a women's chat show, but not loud enough to entertain or to hear what was being said other than a few tantalising oily-voiced words now and again...

_Yes, but how did you actually feel when you found them together like that?_

"Good Riddance!" Harry yelled, but immediately regretted it; his mouth was dry — he needed to conserve himself. But his cry also had half-obscured another sound and he struggled to think what it might have been. More mail? _Unlikely,_ thought Harry. _Sounded as if..._

He knew then what it was and sweat burst forth even more profusely on his brow. It had been the faint metallic tick-tick-creeeak of the skylight opening up fully on the upstairs ceiling.

_...the axe was never found... Nowhere's safe these days..._ blurted the television faintly in the distance.

Harry listened as a faint pattering crept like a giant spider step by step down the stairs above him yet there was no weight depressing the boards. Whatever it was, it was not human, and it now stood, completely silent, right outside his cupboard door...

"Hedwig!" cried Harry, not concerned now for his sore throat. "That's you isn't it?"

He was greeted with an excited hoot followed by a mournful note.

"Hedwig, I'm going to push a message under the door. Can you carry it in your beak this once, please? Take it to Mrs Weasley — you know where."

It was a long way to The Burrow and, as the day passed, Harry regretted not telling the owl that the message was urgent. The discomfort was intense and he was mightily tempted to retrieve his wand from his school trunk and blast his way out — or at least conjure some water. But Ron had explained to him about the use of underage magic.

"FINE! I'll just die of thirst here, then!"

_What's the use of magic if I'm not allowed to use it! Stupid Ministry rules._ he thought to himself.

In the early evening, there was a series of faint explosions and screams from the living room. Harry looked at his watch and sighed: Gougezilla was just starting. He punched down angrily at his mattress. _All I ever see of movies is teaser trailers and wall posters!_ He tried to imagine taking Ginny to a real cinema. How astonished she would be! They'd be together on the back row; the lights would dim...

The diminishing slither of light under the door indicated the sun was setting. He glanced at his watch again. As he did so, there was some extra heavy bumping and scraping coming from the living room followed by one enormous bang. Harry groaned his disappointment. _That must be the scene on the poster where Vanessa leaps from the trainload of commuters being dragged by the creature through the fuel dump._

"Alohamora!" The cupboard door flew open.

"Fred...?" said Harry weakly.

"Merlin, what have they done to you, Harry?"

Over Fred's shoulders, just before Harry dizzied out, he observed the beaming expressions of Mr Weasley and Ron turning to shock.

.

~~~ The Grand Finale ~~~

"He'll be alright now, but give him some more." It was Mr Weasley's voice.

Harry opened his eyes as the cool rim of a glass tumbler touched his lips and soothing water poured into his mouth. "Okay, mate?" said Ron.

Harry found himself laid out on the living room couch; he looked around. Rubble and loose chippings were strewn about and white dust covered every surface. The electric fire was wedged under the sideboard and the front of the chimney breast was gaping wide with twisted bricks sticking out like rotten teeth. It looked like a war zone.

"Floo?" croaked Harry.

Mr Weasley nodded. "Nothing we can't fix. Don't worry."

"Frankly, I don't give a rat's arse," said Harry, sitting up then clutching at an unexpected headache. Ron blinked and even the twins turned briefly from watching Gougezilla which was approaching its monumental and climactic end scenes.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter?" said Ron.

On the screen, the walking remains of a disposable red-shirted undead had come out of the zilla's nest and was advancing on a squad of unarmed infantrymen. There was a spray of metallic shrapnel and he was gone.

"Wooooaaah!" said George.

"Precisely!" said Fred. "What the Merlin's bootstraps was that?"

"Fragmentation bomb," said Harry. His voice was flat and with a trace of defeat. "Vanessa improvised it to stun or injure the last few militia so they didn't proceed to certain death in the pod nest but it was a proximity device so the revenant got the full shock wave."

The twins stared blankly. "What language are you speaking, Harry?" said Fred, numbly, but Harry's eyes had flicked from the devastation on the screen to the red light on the black metal digital box beside it.

He pushed himself to his feet and snarled bitterly, "I might have known Aunt Marge wouldn't let them watch this!"

He pulled out the cable to the video recorder and slung it contemptuously aside. The television screen went dark. So did the faces of Fred and George.

"You and the Dursleys have not missed anything," said Harry, with a satisfied smirk. "Just the big finale where Gougezilla's spawn erupts from the sewers and begin to wreak their mighty vengeance on the city before the half-naked Vanessa, who is about to sacrifice herself by manually triggering the failed nuclear device, notices the little boy searching for his dog."

There was a stunned silence. Ron coughed.

"Right! Well then! Better get Harry's trunk, eh?" said Mr. Weasley, brightly.

Fred and George were still staring at the blank screen. George, square-eyed, was muttering something about Vanessa.

"Boys?"

Satisfied they were coming out of their stupor, Mr Weasley turned to Harry. "Better get cracking then."

He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand.

"Incendio!" said Mr. Weasley, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall below the mantelpiece.

Flames rose at once in the shattered fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. Mr. Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and threw it onto the flames, which turned green and roared higher than ever. "Go ahead, Harry. I'll tidy up here first."

Harry did not hesitate. He could not wait to depart and although he knew he would have to somehow face the Dursleys again next year, he dismissed them from his thought, walked right into the fire, saying, "The Burrow!" and was gone in a rush of emerald-green flames faster than the shredded dead had departed the widescreen.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Thanks to a guest reviewer who pointed out the confusing Quidditch score in the last chapter: "Three-hundred-and-eighty-forty to Gryffindor!" You see, in soccer one might have 3-2 and say 'three-two' in fiction dialogue but when its such big numbers as in Quidditch then 384-40 looks odd spelt out. So I've now changed it to how it is in one of the books to: "Gryffindor leads by three-hundred-and-eighty points to forty!"_

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	23. Goblet of Fire Part 02

.

_So far... Harry finally lost his temper with the Dursleys and had to spend all day locked in his cupboard, but the Weasleys rescued him again. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 23**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 2**

* * *

.

~~~ Sweet Reunion ~~~

A flare of green flames and a flurry of soot attracted the attention of those in the Weasley kitchen.

"Hello, Harry." Ginny's grin was so wide that he felt sure her mother would notice and think it curious. She pointed to her nose and signalled to Harry that he had a smut there.

"Er... Hello, erm... Miss Weasley," said Harry. He kept his distance and hurriedly rubbed his cheek, using it as a distracting cover for an anxious sideways glance at her mother before continuing with Ginny, "How are you?"

"I'm very well, thank you," smiled Ginny, just managing to prevent herself laughing out loud.

"That's it, Ginny, you see?" said Mrs Weasley. "No need to be shy. He won't bite if you can get to know him." She beamed at Harry then advanced and reached out to him. "Oh, no need for formalities, Harry." Although she was smiling, he detected a trace of concern both in her tone and in her expression.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," gasped Harry, "thanks for... responding to my... call for help..." He hadn't mentioned the cupboard in his message to her, but he had conveyed his misery about not being able to get out of the house.

"You're alright now, Harry, that's what matters," was all she said, but Harry could tell she was upset about his scrawny frame and had suspicions about the Dursleys' treatment of him.

Beyond her suffocating embrace, he could see Hedwig perched upon a hatstand — and another smiling face appeared in the doorway to the parlour too.

"Hermione!"

"Harry! We've been so worried about you!"

Harry had just time to take one breath after Mrs Weasley released him then he was in Hermione's arms. As they hugged, Harry winked over her shoulder and covertly blew kisses at Ginny who was making funny faces at him and still pointing where the soot smudge was. What he didn't know was that Hermione was doing the same at Ron who had emerged from the fireplace behind him. It was a happy reunion and melted away Harry's frustration from having spent all day in the Dursleys' cupboard.

"I've got some nice beef stew simmering on the stove, Harry," beamed Mrs Weasley. "Potatoes, dumplings, a good half-onion in there too, carrots and peas fresh from the garden... oh and freshly-baked bread to sop it up with." Harry was already aware of the wonderful smells that filled the room and his mouth was watering at the steamy aroma venting from the huge cooking pot.

While Hermione dusted off Ron's shoulder, Harry rubbed his face with a handkerchief. "Gone?" he mouthed at Ginny. She nodded.

Harry had the sense of her leaning towards him — as if a magnet was pulling her over. Fred and George came through the floo flames and she eased back with a slight sense of disappointment on her face.

George followed his mother into the parlour and Harry could hear him saying, "Mum, can we get a Gougezilla thing?" Harry caught a glimpse of Bill and Charlie chatting away beyond them.

"A what? What are you talking about?"

"It's a thingy that shows Gougezilla something..."

"That you, Arthur?" she called.

Mr Weasley had appeared in the kitchen. "Yes, dear, all's well."

Mrs Weasley bustled back in with George still in tow and she headed straight for the oven. "Supper's ready, boys!"

Harry looked around at the family gathering and smiled. Yes, all was well.

.

~~~ Outpouring ~~~

"So what happened, Harry," Hermione said firmly the next morning when she and Ginny had confronted him in Ron's bedroom just after breakfast. "Ron won't tell me and—"

"I don't know it all, myself!" cut in Ron. "Let him be, Hermione. If he doesn't want to..."

"No, it's alright. You might as well know," said Harry. He lounged down onto his back on the camp bed they had set up while he thought what to say. It was only a crude wooden folding frame connected by canvas but it felt luxurious to him. He stretched out his legs and wriggled into a comfortable position while trying to think how to tell them.

"I remembered what you said, Hermione," he said finally, "about standing up to them."

"So you discussed it with them? Made them see reason?" said Hermione. There was a hopeful, eager expression on her face.

Harry stared at her for several seconds then shook his head. "You can't reason with them, Hermione. I bottled out."

"But then how—?" she said.

"I was really annoyed and then... I shouted at them!" cried Harry. He frowned at the memory. "It was stupid Dudley. He had an accident while I was..." Harry didn't feel like describing an electric light bulb. "Well, we were at the top of the stairs. He charged at me and went over the banister and fell down to the hall below."

All three of his friends gasped. Ron said, "Is he...?"

Harry shook his head again and rolled over onto his side on the camp bed to face them better. "No, I saved him. There was some spontaneous, uncontrolled magic and I saved him on a cloud of fairies. But then..."

"You conjured fairies?" said Ron, incredulously, "without even a wand? Show us!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded absently, then shook his head. "I mean, no! It just happened — I can't do it from choice with my wand. Everybody still a crackle of magic now and again don't they? When they get really scared or angry?"

Everyone shook their head.

"It's not common, Harry, not once you get a wand and can express your magic in a controlled way regularly." said Hermione. "Although..." She tilted her head thoughtfully for a moment. "Now you mention it, I did produce blue flames once without intending to when I was holidaying in France last year. Perhaps its when we can't use our wands for a while that the magic sometimes bursts out."

"Anyway," continued Harry, "my aunt and uncle came out to see what all the racket was about and they thought I was carrying him off somewhere."

"Where?" said Ginny. "If they were just fairies, right?"

"They don't... Muggles don't see it that way, Ginny. They probably just saw creatures. Perhaps they thought they were taking him off to some satanic ritual before the King of the Goblins or something, I don't—"

"But goblins haven't got—" Ron stopped what he was saying after a scathing look from Hermione.

"So then what, Harry?" she nodded encouragingly. Harry looked at her perched on Ron's bed with her hands clasped almost as if she were taking notes. It gave him the impression he was lying on the couch of a mental health therapist.

"Well, they blamed me. Usual stuff. Chuntering on about magic not being real — daft prats. They'd just seen... well, they've seen lots of things over the years."

"They're in denial, Harry."

"He kept on and on and then he..."

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione looked at one another. Hermione said, "He did what, Harry?"

"He insulted you all," said Harry mournfully. "He insulted my friends." He looked at Hermione then at Ginny. "Said you were ugly, grotesque, that you were freaks. I blew a gasket — I mean, I really lost my temper," he added hastily.

"You didn't!" Ron looked eager. Hermione scowled at him.

"I said I hope they die and I wouldn't do a thing to help them," said Harry. He looked away and smoothed at his pillow.

"Harry!" said Ginny.

"No, let him pour it all out," said Hermione.

"I loathe them," said Harry, and he was looking at Ginny as if more than anything he wanted to confess to her, to explain how he could have said something so unthinkable. "I was too young to understand before but now I despise them for what they've done to me. I just lost it."

Hermione tried to break the awkwardness and keep him talking. "What did they do then, Harry?"

He sighed. "Cupboard. 'Forever,' Uncle Vernon said, but I guess that only meant until September. I didn't care. I'd done it loads of times before. Been locked up more days than not in that hole, I reckon."

"Harry, yesterday was the hottest day of the year so far," said Hermione.

"I know," said Ron. "You should have seen him when we..."

Harry had become aware that Ginny had fallen silent. Sparkling tears had sprung to her eyes and she was fighting with her emotions to try to be strong.

He got up off the bed and took her in his arms. Hermione whispered to Ron to guard the door.

"I kn- knew, s- something ... g- going on," stammered Ginny, shaking against him. "But..."

"Hush..." said Harry, wanting to comfort her but becoming strangely comforted himself. Being held by Ginny helped him release his own frustration and stress. They stood quite still, embracing, for several minutes. Hermione sat formally, perched on Ron's bed, hands in her lap, biting her lip. Ron stood facing away, with his weight against the door to stop anyone bursting in too quickly.

"And no bed at Hogwarts, either!" said Ginny, refusing to let go of him. "We'll see about that when we go back. If you won't tell somebody then I will!"

She could feel Harry freeze up in her arms.

Hermione spoke. "Ginny... Harry has to do it for himself."

Ginny glared at Hermione but after a while he could feel her soften against him.

"So... you won't say anything to McGonagall?" said Harry.

There was a long pause then Ginny said finally, "No."

Harry let out a long breath and relaxed.

"One step at a time, Harry," said Hermione. "You've made good progress with the Dursleys."

"Guess I'll have to apologise to them, eventually, though" Harry said, after he and Ginny pulled apart.

"No, Harry!" squealed Hermione. She scrunched her legs up under her, abandoning her psychiatrist stance and becoming a young girl again. "They're vermin. They don't deserve an apology. It is they who should apologise to you!"

"But until I grow up I'm stuck with them," said Harry, despondently. "It can't end so I have to find the easiest way out with minimum hassle and bother." He looked at the others who were staring at him again. "What? Causing trouble just causes trouble, right?"

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~~~ The World Cup ~~~

All the Weasley brothers were staying at The Burrow. Percy had completed his last year at Hogwarts and was now working for the Ministry. He, Bill and Charlie, were going to Apparate directly to the Quidditch Cup Event but the rest of them were to go by Portkey and, when the day finally came, Harry was pleased to discover that the enchanted object was an old boot and not an owl's collar — though the trip was just as unpleasant. At least he succeeded in keeping his feet this time and even prevented Ginny taking a tumble too.

An enormous gathering of magical folk were camped in tents awaiting the evening's entertainment. The excitement mounted as the day wore on until finally the spectators were allowed access to the stadium. They had not been seated long before the Malfoys arrived, took places nearby, and exchanged bitter glances with the Weasleys.

"Always turning up where they're not wanted," grumbled Mr Weasley as he turned away to watch the Bulgarian players enter the arena.

"Which reminds me..." said Harry, "I had an unpleasant dream during the—"

Ginny at his side gave him a quick glance but was immediately diverted by Ron's excited voice.

"THERE'S VIKTOR KRUM!" yelled Ron. "There he is!"

Yet distracted as everyone was by the Bulgarian team's Seeker, Harry could not but help notice how Draco averted his eyes whenever Harry looked his way.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ginny, tugging gently at his sleeve.

"Nothing really... Nothing at all," said Harry.

All went smoothly and a great time was had by all. Best of all, in the remaining days, Harry found plenty of time to be with Ginny. By the end of the summer holidays, Harry had completely forgotten about Draco — and the bad dream.

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~~~ Announcing A Tournament ~~~

At the start of September the weather had turned sultry. Gathering clouds had lashed torrential rain upon the express train as it sprayed and steamed through the storm towards Hogwarts. By nightfall, the starless sky was so intensely black that every student had lit their wands to make their way towards the dim pinpricks of lanterns swinging in the wind upon the horseless carriages. An occasional flash of lightning sent the youngsters scurrying to win the first dry seat they could find and beg if anyone knew how to cast drying or warming spells.

But to the astonishment of Harry and his friends, the main gates were ablaze with luminous enchantments, bedecked with everlasting garlands of scarlet poinsettia strung around and along the boundaries at either side. Piled before these, dense holly bush thickets extended away to soften the stone walls with glorious shining greenery and bright red berries. And through it all, undying amaranth of piercing blues, yellows, and magenta shocked the eyes with colour. The effect was a rich abundance of magical authority befitting the great school of witchcraft and wizardry.

"Blimey! What's going on?" said Ron, as their carriage trundled below the two great winged boars above the gateway pillars. Harry shook his head.

In contrast to the heavy verdure of the boundary walls, the extensive lawns within had been trimmed to perfection. Endless, neatly-cropped blades of grass glistened in the moving pools of coach light as the children trundled softly along. The blackness yielded a little around the castle entrance lanterns to reveal that Hogwarts high stone walls had received a grime-removing face-lift.

"Must be in honour of our great win at Quidditch last term," grinned Ginny. "Perhaps the team will be exempt from classes this year."

"I wish," said Ron.

But Quidditch was most definitely not the reason for the new finery. Ron was just asking Hermione if she knew who the new face at the staff tables was. He looked rough and mean in the gloomy, flickering torchlight of the Great Hall.

"It's Professor Lupin's old place," she replied, slowly counting along the row. "I wonder where he is? Oh, I hope he's not left. I hope this is not the new Defence teacher..."

"Don't know about 'new,' Hermione," said Ron. "He looks as if he's been battered around for years."

Ron was right. As another bolt of lightning flashed through the windows, the man's face was brightly illuminated for a moment and Hermione let out a gasp. His features were badly scarred and there was a chunk missing out of his nose, but it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness. A long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair tumbled down towards his shoulders. Leaning against the side of his chair was a tall wooden staff.

Harry gulped. He felt Ginny's arm press nervously against his.

"It'll be a pity if Lupin's gone," said Ron. "He was alright, he was. What did you think of him, Harry?"

Harry paused. He had found Professor Lupin easy to get along with and reliable. Harry's experience had been that if he worked hard and handed in his homework on time then Lupin was no trouble at all. As Harry took in the wild look of the new professor, he regretted that perhaps he had taken Lupin for granted. "Yyyesss... I think Lupin was okay, Ron."

Harry's thoughts were drawn back to the previous term when he had passed Lupin on the stairs leading up to headmaster's office. Harry could not help wondering if the professor's visit had been anything to do with what Harry himself had discussed with Dumbledore and perhaps even explain why he wasn't here now. He looked towards the old headmaster and was pulled out of his reverie; Professor Dumbledore had stood up and was about to speak.

"It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year," announced Dumbledore.

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Ron and Ginny and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Both Oliver Wood and Cynthia Blake had now left Hogwarts so he and Ron had felt certain they would have been included in this year's team. And after Ginny's fine showing in the previous year's match against Slytherin, they had been hopeful too that she would have been able to stand in a few times for one of the three Chasers. Fred and George were mouthing soundlessly, apparently too appalled to speak.

The headmaster continued, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly, snapping out of his stupor.

The tension that had seized the Great Hall immediately eased off. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"The Triwizard Tournament is a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. At Halloween, a seventh-year champion will be selected to represent each school, and the three champions will compete in three magical tasks for the glory of their school and a thousand Galleons prize money."

Dumbledore held up his hand after allowing a minute for the excited students to begin to quieten down. "I have one further announcement to make before the feast begins."

Every last murmur softened into silence as all began to pay attention to the headmaster again to hear what else he had to say.

"I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded. The sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Excitement grew in the weeks leading up to the end of October. Harry had mixed feelings. The tournament sounded fascinating but no information was given out concerning the nature of the magical tasks so his mind had little to dwell on. Quidditch on the other hand, he did miss and he could not forget the climax of the preceding season.

Neither, it seemed, could Professor Snape. The Potions workload on Harry had definitely increased and Harry struggled to maintain good, consistent marks in tests and to complete homework in time.

"Blimey, Harry!" cried Ron as they came up from the Potions classroom in the dungeons at the end of a long day, "He's really piling it on!"

Harry grimaced. Every few steps he tried but failed to close his schoolbag because there were a couple of extra textbooks and revision papers fighting to get out.

"It's shouldn't be allowed, Harry," said Neville. "You're better at Potions than I am. A teacher ought not to take revenge like this."

"Professor Snape is actually doing Harry a big favour," said Hermione, off-handedly. "Oh, look, there's Ginny! Hi, Ginny, what're you doing down here?"

"Finished Charms a bit early..." smiled Ginny wryly. "Luna accidentally turned all the desks inside out with her polishing charm so Flitwick gave up for the day."

"So you couldn't wait another sixty seconds for Harry to come up to the common room?" smirked Hermione as she made way for Ginny to take her usual place at Harry's side and hook her arm through his. In response to Harry's puzzled look, she whispered in his ear, "Percy's left Hogwarts now, remember?"

"What you on about, Hermione?" said Ron "About Snape?"

"Well it's obvious isn't it? Professor Snape allowed Harry to fall behind with his out-of-class studies last year because all the teachers would know he was worried to death about Sirius Black. But now he has to catch up again."

"I'll help you, Harry," said Ginny, snuggling a little closer on the bumpy steps. "Two wands are better than one."

"Brilliant! Thanks, Gin. You can help testing me and list-memorising and with copying out some of these essays with that special quill, and—"

"You're supposed to learn it, Harry!" Anyway, that's cheating," said Hermione.

"I do learn it — but my notes are so scrappy it takes ages to rewrite."

Harry and Ginny almost exchanged a spontaneous quick peck on the lips but Ron saw the slight body movements.

"Oy! Don't y—"

Hermione always knew how to shut him up and had her lips planted on his before he could drew another breath.

.

—oOo—

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* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	24. Goblet of Fire Part 03

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_So far... Harry has returned for his fourth year at Hogwarts to the announcement of an inter-school magical tournament, and a new Dark Arts Defence teacher: Professor Alastor Moody. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 24**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 3**

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~~~ The Seventh D ~~~

"POTTER!"

Harry looked up just in time to angle his head out of the way. Professor Moody's blackboard duster clipped over one shoulder, smearing and showering white chalk upon his dark robes, then flew around the far end of the room causing much nervousness amongst students on the back row.

"There'll be no talking in my class unless I say so! Understood?"

Harry brushed irritably with his hand at the mess on his school clothing and muttered, "Yes, sir." Draco Malfoy's snigger was hidden behind a cupped hand. The duster clipped his ear as it flew back to the front of the classroom.

"I can see right through you, Malfoy; don't you forget it," glared Moody. He plucked the duster out of the air and began wiping a space on the blackboard. As he stomped along, Harry could see now why he carried a wooden staff with him and rarely laid it aside: he had a peg-leg. The false limb made his unusual appearance seem even more piratical.

"Potter just gave us a valuable demonstration of one of the six D's. Anyone know which?"

The chalk squeaked under the pressure of his gnarled hand as he wrote _THE SIX D'S_ on the blackboard and underlined it.

"Granger, is it?" he said, without turning his head.

Hermione flinched, then stood up hesitantly. "Y- yes sir. It's _Dodging._ When cast by a wand, all curses take a finite time to reach their target. Evasive techniques are a most important means of defence. According to the sixteenth century scholar, Aloysius of Calabria, the reaction time of—"

"Yes, yes... _Doers do us, scholars follows_," said Moody whirling around so suddenly that Hermione plopped back down into her seat in surprise.

"The point being: do not underestimate the value of... _Dodging_" — here he turned back to his blackboard and emphasised the word with slowness as he wrote it laboriously halfway down below the heading — "Dodging curses. It may just save your life."

He looked around the class. "Others?"

Hermione hesitated with fingers flickering, wondering if he meant others of the six D's or if he wanted someone other than herself to answer.

Neville raised his hand very cautiously. "Duelling?"

"Are you just guessing, Longbottom?"

"Y- yes, s- sir..."

There was a pause. "Good guess." Moody wrote it on the board and Neville sagged a little with relief.

"What are you grinning at, Weasley?" Moody turned around to face them again. It was very disconcerting. "Perhaps then, you can tell us another?"

Ron squirmed slightly in his seat. "Erm... Defence?"

"Defence, yes. Shielding oneself behind physical objects or protective spells are critical when under attack." Again, he scribbled on the board. "But remember..." He spun back around again menacingly. "Shield spells will not block _which_ curses?"

Hermione's hand shot up so fast that she almost dislodged Harry's glasses. "The Unforgivables." Ron suppressed another grin, unsure how to conceal anything from this teacher.

"The Unforgivables, yes. ... Likely we'll need a complete lesson on those... But another D... Anyone? ... How about... Diversion?" He wrote it down. "Distracting the enemy with unexpected sights and sounds can reap rewards."

His eyes gazed around the class and one of them alighted on Harry.

"Potter! Nothing to contribute? Any ideas at all? Any notion what to do if attacked by a powerful dark wizard?"

"Run away, sir?"

The Slytherins discharged a broadside of laughter.

"SILENCE!" roared Moody. "As it happens, Potter is absolutely right. The final D is to Disappear, depart, Disapparate, vamoose, skedaddle — get the hell away and live to fight another day."

His attention came back to Hermione. "You look puzzled, Granger. Spit it out."

"Well, sir... That's only five. We're missing one of the D's."

"Correct. Anyone else that is still awake may have also noticed that I have left a space at the top of the list. Possibly the most important defence against the Dark Arts is..." He wrote it on the board very carefully then turned around and raised his hands to encourage everyone to read it out loud.

"Detection..." mumbled some of the class.

"Exactly. If you can see it coming you can avoid it. And if you see the enemy early enough you may be able to get the drop on them — do them before they do you. It's a pity that Aloysius was too busy studying his scrolls in fifteen-seventy-six wasn't it, Granger?"

Hermione flushed and averted her gaze.

"However..." Moody said. He glanced at the wall clock and began filing paperwork away in his bag before continuing, "Study does have its place. For homework I want at least twenty inches essaying examples of each of the above — and I expect DIFFERENT ideas from each of you." There were groans from various parts of the classroom but Harry was smiling quietly to himself.

"Haven't you got enough on your plate?" whispered Ron, who was not at all keen about racking his brain for inspiration in what he saw as his leisure time.

Hermione knew what he was thinking. "You don't need to think up your own, Ron; that's what the library is for. You could try _Famous Duels_ or _History of Winning Strategies_ for instance."

Ron grimaced but nodded.

"Write the titles down then," mouthed Hermione, tapping indignantly on his quill. "Honestly, Ronald..." She rolled her eyes.

"Won't you be there?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well then."

"We'll probably be glad of all this in ten or twenty years' time," whispered Harry.

"What do you mean?" murmured Hermione.

"I think, given time, _He_ might have gathered enough supporters to—"

"Did I say anyone could pack up yet, Finnegan?" said Moody as he snapped his own bag shut with a loud click.

"No, sir," Seamus said sullenly and slowly began taking his books back out of his bag.

Draco spoke up without invitation, and there was a sense of challenge in his attitude, "You missed another one, Professor. There are seven possible D's."

"Some wits do say..." said Moody, very quietly, "but I say no..." He glared at Draco then bellowed, "DYING is not an option in my lessons! I don't teach anyone how to end their misery — I teach them how to survive! Understood?"

He gazed around the classroom. "Right, everyone — pack up, we're done here for today!"

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~~~ The Champions ~~~

At the end of October, the delegations from the two schools, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, arrived and there was tense excitement in the Great Hall at the evening feast.

"I don't believe it! Harry — it's Viktor Krum!" burst out Ron, excitedly pointing to one of the boys at the Slytherin table. "The Bulgarian Seeker! I didn't know he was still at school! Maybe I can get his autograph!"

Hermione gave a big sniff of disdain. "For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player"

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione — he's one of the best Seekers in the world!"

Everyone quietened down as the headmaster took out a flaming, roughly-hewn wooden goblet from a casket and announced, "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school on a slip of parchment and drop it into this goblet," said Dumbledore. "Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools."

There was much discussion for the rest of the feast.

"Who do we know who's entering?" asked Harry, after the meal had ended and they were returning to their common room.

"Angelina for one; I hope she gets in," said Ginny

"Oh yeah - she'd be great!" Harry nodded his agreement.

They turned the corner into the Gryffindor corridor and waited while others up ahead opened the portrait hole.

"I think there's a Hufflepuff too," added Ginny, as they moved forward again.

"Yeah, Pretty-boy Diggory," scoffed Ron. "Mind you, I'd rather have him than Warrington; we can't have a stinking Slytherin representing Hogwarts."

Ron need not have worried. At the Halloween Feast the next evening, Dumbledore announced those who had been selected by the Goblet of Fire...

"The champion for Durmstrang will be... Viktor Krum."

Harry and Ginny exchanged mock surprise amidst the applause then ended up in giggles. Krum got to his feet and slouched forward.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

A beautiful-looking girl, who Ron swore was a Veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

The goblet flared up again, crackling and sparking with promise...

"The Hogwarts champion..." began Dumbledore, preparing to reach for the slip of parchment that was about to be spewed from the flames.

Harry held up crossed fingers but Ginny shook her head. "Crossed fingers won't work unless they're bewitched, Harry; everyone knows that. You need a proper lucky charm if you want Angelina to be Hogwarts' champion."

Harry's eyes lit up. He dug into a deep pocket of his robes and pulled out a rather forlorn Golden Snitch which he handed to Ginny for inspection, adding, "It was lucky for us in the match last year wasn't it!" She cast a charm on it then gave it a kiss.

"...is Cedric Diggory!" declared Dumbledore.

"Told you crossed fingers won't work!" laughed Ginny as the Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers.

"Well, that lucky Snitch didn't work either," said Harry. He pulled a face and stuck out his tongue.

"Who said I used it so Angelina might get lucky?" she grinned cheekily, handing back his Snitch.

Harry reddened slightly and he looked quickly around but nobody had noticed what she had said; they were too busy cheering Cedric or commiserating with Angelina.

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~~~ The First Task ~~~

Excitement increased towards the end of November when the first task was to take place. Gryffindor had gradually accepted Cedric Diggory so when the day arrived, the previous partisan atmosphere had disappeared completely and everyone who could get near him was shouting words of encouragement.

It was not clear, however, whether this support actually boosted Cedric's confidence. He looked distinctly shaky on the day of the first task because nobody seemed to know what it would be. Even as the entire school and staff were making their way to the trees at the edge of the Forest, everyone was still discussing the possibilities.

"Both Krum and Diggory are good fliers," said Ron. "I reckon it might be some sort of altitude test. Perhaps the first to cast a rain charm on one of the clouds up there."

"Somehow I doubt they'll want to spoil the occasion by causing a downpour on the spectators and judges, Ron," said Hermione.

As everyone entered the trees, they began to make out tall canvas walls ahead which were clearly their destination.

"Battles with monstrous creatures," said Luna, happily. "I'm sure it must be. Look at the lovely big enclosure. They wouldn't have made it so huge if it was just Flobberworms."

"Luna, they're not going set loose any dangerous magical creatures, big or little," said Hermione in her most patient voice. "I think the task will be to erect a great structure in the fastest time: a tall tower perhaps."

"But it's _supposed_ to be dangerous, Hermione," said Ginny. "I'm going with fire. I think they've put up a small volcano in there; I can smell brimstone. What do you think, Harry?"

"Boxing match against the Whomping Willow," laughed Harry. He demonstrated his claim with a clenched fist that feinted past Ginny's chin; she flinched back in surprise.

There was a flash of bright white light and everyone blinked, dazzled, and tried to make out the figures blocking their path.

"Well, what have we here? Harry Potter, if I'm not much mistaken."

A witch wearing acid-green robes and jewelled spectacles stood before them. Her hands, which were positioned imposingly on her hips, ended in thick fingers with two-inch, crimson-painted nails. By her side was a dull-looking wizard holding a camera to his face. He moved aside to take an angled photograph and blinded them all again for another half-minute.

"Excuse me but, who are you?" said Harry through the shining haze which was all he could see. One hand nervously moved towards his wand pocket.

"Everyone knows me, dearie — I'm Rita Skeeter, special investigative reporter for the Daily Prophet — but it's you that everyone's interested in, of course. Her attention turned to Ginny who was still blinking and rubbing her eyes. "Who's your little friend?"

Ron stepped forward rather aggressively. "That's my sister, if you must know!"

"A Weasley," said Rita Skeeter, taking out her quill. "Lovely."

Harry felt an arm slipping around his. It was Luna. "We're just very good friends and nothing more," she said sweetly.

"Ms Lovegood, is it not? Is it true they call you 'Loony' because of the curious tales in your father's little... organ — or is there another reason?"

"Oh, it's not a musical instrument at all," said Luna, completely unfazed, "it's an alternative tabloid — you know, so people know what's really happening."

"And what, I wonder, is happening when a... tall-story writer is arm-in-arm with the Boy-who-lived?"

Harry cringed and tried to pull away but the camera had already flashed again.

"What is the hold up? What is going on here?"

"Professor McGonagall! A pleasant surprise." Rita's tone make it clear that 'pleasant' definitely did not describe what she thought of the deputy headmistress's untimely arrival.

"You children, keep moving — we haven't got all day." McGonagall shooed them onward to merge with the other students who were still filing towards the enclosure. Glancing back over their shoulders, they could her still remonstrating with Rita behind them even when they reached the canvas-framed entrance to the tournament. Luna did not let go of Harry until they were inside.

"Why'd you—?" spluttered Harry. "WOW!" Harry and his friends stopped to gape. The stadium was a huge bowl of bench seats descending to a rocky pit strewn with enormous boulders. The length of this excavation was greater than a Quidditch pitch and at the far end, colossal iron gates, solid and impassive, were set at an angle into the floor and side of the chasm. So impressive was the panorama that many earlier students had also been distracted and were fumbling, dazed and excited along the top rows. Luna was quick to take advantage.

"Oh look! We can still get good seats!" She scurried down the nearest aisle with Ginny to claim a group of places on the last free bench on the front row from where they waved back excitedly. Harry and the others hurried after them, their hollers and squeals of elation lost in the general hubbub of the other spectators.

The Hogwarts Express trolley lady had been recruited for this special occasion and was already busily serving out her fare. Chocolate Frogs and Licorice Spiders and Sugar Mice were all passed around, all trapped inside candy floss balls to stop them escaping too early. Luna indulged in an eyeball-gobstopper. Much to everyone's disgust she kept pushing it out between her lips and rotating it with her tongue so it could look around and enjoy the show and wink at people who stared at it too much.

The congestion of enormous craggy blocks in the arena was relieved only in the smoother, open area near the gates and Hermione was soon insisting that was where the contestants would construct their magical towers. Either that, she challenged, or they were to hew out grand statues of their founders: great colossi to celebrate the three schools.

She was completely wrong. Even before all the students were seated there was a complex and inspiring fanfare of trumpets, the announcer pronounced a few words then waved his wand and the great iron doors pitched agape with a thunderous crash. The crowd gasped, hushed by wonder.

Looking out from within the gaping maw of the gateway crouched a mighty silvery-blue creature: a winged behemoth of terrifying ferocity. Its low, powerful growl rumbled and shook both the rocky hollow and the flimsy wooden stands grouped around it with their awed spectators. When it espied a mound of heaped stones materialising upon a low plinth within the compound it articulated a mournful whimpering cry that ascended through a howl, thence to a roar, and finally a bellow that rattled the teeth and the nerves of the watchers gaping upon it. The beast did not take long to clamber out to the extent of its heavy tethers and take its place next to its stony nest. From there, it gazed around aggressively and yet, perhaps, with a slightly bewildered expression.

"Ooo!" squealed Luna, after pulling out her gobstopper and clutching a white-faced Neville at her side. "It's a female Swedish Short-snout. Isn't she sweet? And look, she has eggs!"

"I don't believe it!" said Ron faintly. "It's a bloody dragon!"

"Yes, that's what I said," cried Luna, raising her voice above the increasing clamour of the recovering audience yelling their approval.

Harry just stared. The creature was turning its long neck to look hungrily at the crowd who were relieved to see that it was well-chained and hopefully magically-secured.

"How is anybody going to fight that?" he mouthed to Ginny, who was on her feet with Luna, cheering and helping Luna to wave a Hogwarts banner.

A lot of people in the crowd seemed to be asking the same question for the announcer seemed to pick up on the confusion and hurriedly declared that the task was to retrieve a golden egg placed amongst the dragon's own eggs.

"And our first champion will be... Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts!"

The crowd noise lapsed to a dull grumble as they assessed the state of Diggory's lone and tiny figure emerging at the opposite end of the enclosure to behold his fate. The shock on his face was clear for all to see. Palest cream tinged with green were his features; knotted and blenching was his normally lithe anatomy.

Diggory saw no promising road along which to progress his hopes and quickly took shelter in the lee of one of the largest boulders, shaking and fighting within himself for control. He was quite close to Harry and his friends in the front row who had a clear view of him peeping around at the monster as if still unable to believe in its reality — or perhaps he was girding himself for one reckless effort. The crowd became very quiet again — this time with anticipation.

"Most spells won't work on dragons," smiled a delighted Luna — and loudly enough that Harry was sure Cedric heard, for he saw him cringe at Luna's declaration.

"You're distracting him, Luna," said Neville, anxiously.

"Yeah, stick your gobstopper back in; it suits you," laughed Ron.

"I was only trying to help," said Luna. "We are allowed to help aren't we? Nobody said. He doesn't seem to know what to do."

Luna was right. Cedric had commenced to sprint from rock to rock looking for some weakness in the dragon's alertness but without success. At first it had ignored him but as he gained ground it nervously directed a fiery warning in his direction; he was lucky not to get singed. As he worked around behind it then it became even more restless. In any case, the eggs were positioned safely before the creature guarding them.

Cedric tried many spells to mislead or confuse the beast but it remained impervious to his magic. He had reached as close as he dared: the open area was too hazardous to cross. Mostly he leaned back behind the tall boulder nearest to the beast, white-faced, sweating, and shaking his head. Occasionally he would try another spell but the dragon was untroubled by any of them. It was an impasse for which he had no solution.

After twenty-five minutes, Bagman, the commentator, ran out of anything new to say and looked at Dumbledore to see if they were near the maximum time allowed. Dumbledore was examining his stopwatch regularly. The crowd's fervour was subdued and their demeanour agitated.

Abruptly, Luna started to choke and, because this new activity was more stimulating than watching a motionless boy against a static rock, many of the nearest in the sea of faces turned her way. Neville slapped her on the back and from out of her mouth the eyeball popped to soar away, turning rapidly to enjoy the panoramic view as it did so. Luna looked on innocently but her hand was in her wand pocket. The gobstopper sailed high over Cedric Diggory and curved down before the beast which cocked its head on one side with curiosity. With a lunge and a snort and a quick burst of flame, the astonished confectionery was no more.

Luna watched Cedric carefully. He picked up a small stone and hurled it in front of the beast where it rattled to the ground and was ignored except for a slight flicker of one eye. Diggory hurled larger and larger rocks until he was dispatching huge rocks with his wand. These only served to annoy the dragon which remained firmly huddled close to its nest. Occasionally, the knuckle of a great wing would tenderly nudge or rotate an egg. Dumbledore looked at his watch one more time...

With one last desperate effort, Diggory Transfigured a rugged block into a dog which ran fearlessly, barking noisily, taunting the dragon from the side. The great beast lunged angrily but the nippy, yapping phantom avoided its flames and dodged back and forth between the boulders. Furious, the dragon arose and pressed sideways to the extent of its tethers, blasting fire as it did so. Seeing his opportunity, Diggory rushed forward, seized the golden egg, turned and ran — but the monstrous creature turned to the sound of his receding footsteps and he received an unpleasant burn before finding refuge once more amongst the protective stone slabs.

The Hogwarts crowd, which up to a few minutes before had no expectations of any good entertainment let alone success, were passionate in their applause and competed well with the dragon's anxious calls as she assessed her brood's safety.

"He must have been totally mental to enter this contest," shouted Ron above the shrieks of delight.

"Yeah, sooner him than me," cried Harry. "You'd never get me risking my neck like that just for a moment's glory."

"And a thousand Galleons, Harry!" yelled Fred, behind him. "Don't forget the winnings!"

The outcome may have drawn the admiration of the crowd but it was a very slow time in which Diggory had completed the task. Following soon after, Fleur Delacour quickly put her dragon into a doze and also received a burn but she did it much faster. So did Krum. He temporarily blinded his dragon the moment he stepped out. There was some booing from the mainly-Hogwartian spectators.

"Cheat!" bellowed Fred from the row behind Harry. "They must have known there'd be dragons!"

"Been planning it for weeks have you Krummy!" shouted George.

But Harry noticed they shared a high five soon after...

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

.


	25. Goblet of Fire Part 04

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_So far... Only Cedric Diggory was chosen to be the Hogwarts' champion in the Triwizard Tournament but finished last in the first task because he had no prior knowledge that he would be facing a dragon. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 25**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 4**

* * *

.

~~~ Stirring It Up ~~~

The first icy breath of a Scottish winter declared itself the next morning by frosting up the views from the castle. The house-elves were kept busy carrying extra coal and logs for the many fires. Hot, steaming porridge was popular at breakfast but while Professor McGonagall appeared to Harry to be salting her portion, he plopped in a big dollop of golden syrup and gave the bowl a good slow whirl with his spoon. This fascinated Luna. She poured hot milk on her Weetabix and reached for the syrup jug.

"What they sniggering at?" scowled Ron, without looking up. Harry's gaze flicked over Ron's shoulder to the noisy Slytherin table. Ron prised open his sandwich to make sure his bacon was really crispy then leaned in to a big bite. Around the back of his head, Harry could see Crabbe and Goyle reading something that lay in front of Zabini.

Hermione, sitting opposite Harry, nudged Ron gently to get his attention and sighed. "Ginny... Harry... Luna... you should all see this."

Harry paused in mid-stir and his attention turned to the Daily Prophet that Hermione had spread out on the table. He blinked and his spoon slipped from his hand and slowly disappeared like the Titanic beneath the surface of his treacly breakfast.

The front page boasted side-by-side photographs: the left one, marked 'BEFORE', showing him endlessly beating a blurry, startled-looking Ginny Weasley about the face, while the one on the right, marked 'AFTER', had a dreamy, crazy-eyed Luna cuddling his arm.

THE BOY WHO LOVED

_Has Harry Potter, better known for his timid retreats, made unfair advances on the disadvantaged? Does his hair suffer its scruffy appearance because he saves all his grooming for the mentally challenged? After brutally rejecting one naive, hopelessly-fawning devotee, this reporter was shocked to see his Svengali methods rapidly transferred to the unstable 'Loony' Lovegood of 'Cobblers' infamy._

"Oh, I think that's rather unfair," said Luna, who's chin was resting on Harry's shoulder as she leaned over him to read, "I think your hair's nice, Harry."

Harry spluttered, "Wha—? How—? Who—?"

On his other side, he felt Ginny grip his arm tightly and take a deep breath before she erupted. "What a cow b—!" The rest of her expletives where silenced by Hermione's quickly-cast muffling charm. Ron was turning purple and Hermione threatened him too with her wand.

"On the whole, I think it went rather well," said Luna, sweetly. "The big _secret relationship_ is safe." She had dropped her voice to mouth the words 'secret relationship'. "Ginny's parents are none the wiser and no harm done." She used a charm to delicately hover Harry's spoon out of his porridge then cleaned it with another.

"No harm done!" choked Harry. "Mr and Mrs Weasley will think I'm a raving psychopath who has attacked their daughter! Now they'll never let me..." He tailed off.

Luna smiled. "I think Ginny said, 'Let you what, Harry?'" But Ginny was still too busy cursing to hear what Harry had said.

Harry looked around, only now becoming aware of the buzz around the Great Hall. The twins had borrowed Filch's newspaper when his back had been turned earlier that morning. George shook his fist at Harry. "You insatiable beast, Harry!" Fred winked. Seamus and Deane were grinning.

"Don't let your porridge get cold," said Luna.

"This is dreadful," said Harry, not hearing her. "We have to do something." He turned his attention to his friend opposite who was still trying to calm down Ron. "Hermione?"

She wrinkled up her mouth then pursed her lips, thinking intensely. "Lies are best fought with..." Hermione looked across at Luna. "Perhaps the Quibbler could set the record straight?"

"Oh, lovely!" said Luna. "I could write an article describing how Wrackspurts confused Rita, then they'll know I'm not mental!"

"Erm..." murmured Hermione. "Perhaps interviewing Ginny might be better? After a suitable cooling-off period, I mean," she added hastily. She turned to Ginny. "You could owl your mum to explain first though."

Ginny mouthed some more anatomically-difficult things she was going to do to Rita Skeeter involving a tightly-rolled-up copy of the Prophet and a sharp quill.

Ron was still gripping the Gryffindor table and finally managed to speak. "Bloody hell..."

Harry was starting to simmer and seethe now reality had sunk in and shock had turned to stress. "I'll... I'll..."

"It'll only make things worse, Harry," said Hermione. "Trouble makes trouble, remember?"

She had to cast a muffling charm on Harry then.

.

~~~ The Starling's Call ~~~

Professor Snape did not ease up the pressure on Harry in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Harry began to think Hermione had been right about him. He was being given extra studies to learn with his additional homework, and in increasing amounts.

To add to his sense of injustice, there was a Hogsmeade weekend just before the start of the holidays and all the older students were rejoicing as they prepared to do their Christmas shopping in the village the next morning. Ron brought up the subject towards the end of the final Transfiguration class of the term.

"It is most important to lift your starfish out of its tank and place it in your birdcage before you begin — not after," chided McGonagall, as each student queued up. "Anyone who drowns their starling will lose house points."

"Are you coming tomorrow?" whispered Ron to Harry.

"And Longbottom, will you please remember to allow for the fifth limb?" said McGonagall as she handed Neville his fish tank. "We do not want anything with three legs or four wings flapping about."

"Yes, Professor — I mean no, Professor," said Neville.

"Hurry it up there, Potter. What are you gawping at? You're holding everyone up," said McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor." Harry hurried after Ron and Hermione with their birdcage.

"I forgot to ask them, Ron," muttered Harry. He opened the cage door while Hermione probed around distastefully with her fingers in the murky water tank. "I mean, I was at your place most of the time wasn't I, Ron? Then there was the World Cup match..."

Hermione gave a little squeal, "It's moving!"

"Well, of course it's moving, Miss Granger," called out McGonagall. "It's a starfish!"

"But, I thought..." She looked at Ron for assistance.

"No way!" said Ron. "It's like a fat slippery spider."

"May I use a charm, please, Professor?" said Hermione.

McGonagall sighed. "Oh, very well."

Ron dodged behind Harry as Hermione hovered the sluggishly squirming starfish over to the cage where Harry pushed it inside and it flopped to the bottom. Ron shuddered.

"Ginny's going to feel really let down, Harry," whispered Hermione. "She said you were going to pretend Hogsmeade was a punishment so your uncle would sign your form."

Harry started to say, "Ginny? Why?"

There was a loud crash from Neville's bench.

Harry grimaced and stared at Hermione. His most recent memory of Privet Drive was of being locked up all day, gasping for water, but he didn't want to remind Hermione about that. "Sorry, I completely forgot. I just never thought about it..."

"Just use the repair charm, Mr Longbottom," said McGonagall. "And please don't cut yourself on the broken glass."

Harry could see Hermione's look of disappointment. He bit his lip. "I doubt they'd sign it now anyway to be honest, not after my shouting at them. Basically, I think I'm doomed next time I go home."

He stared at her for a while as she turned away and fiddled with the clips on the fish tank lid. "How does this fit back on, Ron?" she said.

"Mr Potter, do you intend to spend the rest of the lesson gazing into space?" said McGonagall.

"Oh, right... sorry, Professor."

Harry looked at the blackboard to remind himself of the wand movements.

"Start again, Mr Finnegan, please. I've no idea what that mess is in your cage but I think we should put it out of its misery, don't you?" said McGonagall. "Mr Potter, do remember to close your cage door before you cast that spell, won't you?"

"Right. Cage door." Harry glared at the starfish then muttered to himself, "How am I supposed to tap the starfish four times with my wand then? It won't go through the bars."

"Lift the food container, Harry," said Ron. "You can poke your wand in there."

"Mmm... Okay... Mutare Ad Sturnus," said Harry.

From surrounding benches, including Malfoy and Goyle's, were arising sweet warbles and delicate whistles but Harry's starfish lay silently where it had flopped.

"You forgot the flicks, Harry," said Hermione, pointing at the diagram on the blackboard. "Want me to try?"

Malfoy sniggered and, having completed his own assignment, brushed past them to return his tank to McGonagall, nearly splashing water on Ron's trainers as he did so.

"Watch it, Malfoy," growled Ron.

Harry grimaced at the instructions on the blackboard.

"Let me, Harry," said Hermione, reaching out with her wand.

"No, I can do it, Hermione," huffed Harry, slapping her hand out of the way. "It's just..."

"What?"

"Got my wand jammed in the birdseed thingy..."

"It's the tentacle wrapped around it stuck in the hole," shuddered Ron.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" cried Hermione, driving the creature back with a flourish and thrusting her own wand into the cage. "Mutare Ad Sturnus!"

Instantly, the starfish transfigured into a starling and hopped up onto a perch.

"Oy! That was my turn," grumbled Harry, picking his own wand up from where it had fallen to the floor.

Hermione looked down her nose imperiously at Harry and gloated — but not for long.

"Look out!" Ron lunged forward as the agitated starling fluttered out of the cage, eluded his grasp, and flew up onto an overhead beam where it began to sing beautifully, _My turn! My turn!_

"You left the door open, Harry!" cried Ron.

"Did not!" Harry turned towards McGonagall's bench. Malfoy and Goyle were there, smirking back at him.

_Did not! Did not!_ sang the bird from above.

"It was him! Malfoy's so dead next time I get half a chance!" snarled Ron. He looked upwards. "How we going to get it down?"

_Oy, oy, oy!_ the bird sang merrily. _Malfoy's so dead, so dead, so dead!_

"Leave it for McGonagall," grinned Harry, as they started to pack up; the lesson was almost over.

The starling flew out into the corridor as the students filed out, still crying, _Malfoy's so dead!_

Hermione frowned but Harry and Ron couldn't stop laughing when they saw Draco's face. He had turned rather pale and kept flinging curses without success at the bird as it flew ahead of them down the corridor.

As they turned the corner, Hermione said, "It's not in good taste, Ron."

"I think it's in excellent taste," guffawed Ron.

There was a low fizzing sound up ahead. The starling was falling like a stone but hit the ground with a soft wet splat: it was a starfish again. Daphne Greengrass put away her wand.

.

~~~ Double Homework ~~~

"What do you think it meant?" said Hermione, the next morning, as she and Ron descended the marble stairs towards the Entrance Hall.

"Merlin's boots! You're not still going on about that stupid bird, are you, Hermione?" scoffed Ron. "It was just a transfigured starfish. Look, starlings don't know what they're saying — they're good mimics, that's all; there's nothing sinister in it. Anyway, you don't believe in Divination and such, do you!"

Hermione flushed and flung the end of her scarf over her shoulder. "Even so, I think we should be cautious. If anything happened to Draco we'd be— Oh, good morning, Luna!"

Luna called out her good mornings very excitedly but she was looking over Ron's shoulder at Neville coming down the main staircase. Behind Neville, Harry and Ginny had followed him down to the Entrance Hall to see them all off while they, themselves, prepared for a hard day of Potions study and essay writing.

"It's all that time you lost last year when you were worried sick about Sirius Black," said Hermione.

"It wasn't my fault!" said Harry.

"I'm not saying it was! Look, Professor Snape's trying to get you up-to-date by the new year," said Hermione, nodding her head rapidly, as if she approved. She pulled up the hood of her travel cloak and glanced out of the open doorway. "Ron, we'd better get going then." She watched Neville and Luna walk out ahead of them.

"Me?" said Ron. "I've been ready for ages."

"None of the other teachers are pushing me so hard," Harry grumbled.

"They're doing it more gradually and less thoroughly than Professor Snape," said Hermione. "And Professor Binns won't even notice. You'll have to do your own revision from the History text books." Ron was tugging at her arm, impatiently. She yielded to him and, waving back, almost apologetically at Harry, she and Ron scurried off after Neville and Luna.

Harry sighed and he and Ginny took sandwiches to the hideaway to start on his double homework.

"I'm learning lots myself," said Ginny as she finished checking Harry's instructions for Wit-Sharpening Potion. "But you missed the Armadillo Bile."

Harry flat-palmed his forehead and groaned. "How can anyone ever forget Armadillo Bile?"

"It's because you didn't think you could forget it that you didn't properly memorise it, Harry. Take a break. Come on. Come and sit down for ten minutes on the sofa. We can finish that later then begin studying the general applications of magical moulds and fungi after that."

"Mmm... Guess so. Be harder to get up again after though. Any of those sandwiches left?"

"There's a couple of Armadillo," grinned Ginny.

"Oh, don't," said Harry. "I've had enough of Snape's bile. Let's hope he eases up after Christmas. Oh yeah, that reminds me. Did Luna tell you what she's getting Neville for Christmas?"

"Another Remembrall — yes, she said... I liked her white fur cape, didn't you? She stitched it herself."

"What? Oh yeah... tasteful — for her, I mean," grinned Harry. "I reckon she's growing up. She'll..." He stopped to think for a few seconds. "How come she's going to Hogsmeade and—?" Harry stopped in mid-sentence.

Ginny searched around inside the basket she'd borrowed from the kitchen for the day. "Mmm...?"

"Luna. She's..."

Ginny looked up. Harry was staring at her. "I completely forgot that you're old enough! This is your third year! That's what Hermione meant... You could've gone with them! Why didn't...?"

"Because I wanted to stay here with you, silly. I didn't want to go into stupid Hogsmeade anyway."

Harry blinked rapidly. He tended to do that when he was astonished.

"Here... turkey." She handed over a couple of sandwiches and picked another for herself.

"But—!"

"Eat!"

Harry sighed and raised the food halfway to his mouth but his attention was still on Ginny. "I'm sorry, Gin. I didn't think of it. You must be mental to give up your first Hogsmeade — _any_ Hogsmeade — just for me."

"Don't worry about it. Come on, eat up."

"Oh, right."

"Anyway, there's lots of girls gone into Hogsmeade today would wish they could swap with me, if they did but know."

Harry choked on his turkey and Ginny slapped him on the back.

"Romilda and Nancy and, oh yeah, Hannah for instance. She likes you, I know." Harry spluttered and coughed but Ginny ploughed on, "She said Cedric's egg screeches horribly when he opens it. They can't figure out the next clue yet."

"Is she the one with blonde pigtails?" said Harry, reaching for the tea flask to clear his throat.

"Yeah, but she's getting a bit old for them now. She says she might let her hair out for the ball."

""Omigod!" spluttered Harry. "Sorry, I forgot! McGonagall said yesterday in class about that Yule Ball thingy. Will you go with me, Ginny?"

"Mmm... dunno. What day is it? I'll have to check if I'll be free. There have been so many other offers already." She relented when she saw Harry's alarmed expression. "Of course I will, Harry! But that pays you back for keeping me waiting."

"Sorry, I just never gave it another thought," said Harry, returning to his sandwich.

"Taking me for granted again, eh?"

Harry looked at her so seriously that she burst out laughing. "Harry, it's alright, I'm joking! I'll be happy if you take me for granted. I want you to take me for granted."

He just sat there slowly shaking his head in wonder and looking at her until finally she blushed, got up, and took her sandwich over to the desk to pretend she was examining the essay Harry had started on.

"McGonagall's giving dancing instruction today — or we could try out our steps here of course," she said off-handedly but she wasn't reading the parchment she held; out of the corner of her eye, she was looking back at him.

And so they did. The Room was rather confined, but they managed.

.

~~~ Dance Practice ~~~

But the next day, Ron and Hermione had all the space of the Great Hall in which to waltz and who can say they were any less happy together than Harry and Ginny? McGonagall was using magic to make it easier for the beginners.

"Now this spell is only a guide and has no lasting effect," said McGonagall, glaring down her nose at Fred who was chatting away with Angelina and paying no attention to anyone but her. "As a demonstration..." — here she pointed her wand at the back of Fred's legs and gave it a single twirl — "Eum Ballo!"

Fred's legs instantly began to dance the polka much to his surprise. After half a minute's uproarious laughter he came to rest.

"Now if the learner had been paying attention he needs only to repeat those same steps. If you would, Mr Weasley..."

"Erm... wha—?"

"You will all note that the spell does not turn inattentive dunces into dancers automatically — you need to observe first, then attempt to copy the steps yourself. Repeat the spell as needed. The wand movement is very simple so you cannot possibly get it wrong. Now, focus on which dance style you wish to use then try the spell. She nodded at Filch who was winding up an old gramophone which had a huge brass horn protruding above it. One, two, three..."

Hermione spun around and shrieked in confusion. Ron had been torn from her grasp and had shot off across the dance floor like a rocket, scattering terrified dancers left and right as he did so.

"Miss Granger," said McGonagall dryly, "you will find your partner at the far end of the hall. Could you please explain to him the spell is pronounced Eum Ballo, not Impello. We NEVER use Impello; it is far too dangerous. Mr Weasley is lucky not have dashed his brains out on that pillar... or perhaps there was no risk of that after all," she added to herself in a low voice.

"Miss Brown, you need to repeat the spell until you've learned the moves and not just stare at your feet... Miss Abbott, well done, you don't need the spell anymore. Mr Longbottom... Mr Longbottom! You use the spell upon your own legs, not Miss Lovegood's... Mr Finnegan, the music playing is a waltz not a jig..." McGonagall sighed. It looked like it would be a long evening.

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_A question has been asked about why Harry is not in the Triwizard Tournament as in the original story. This will be revealed as the story progresses, but in general, off-stage, the dark forces are progressing differently in 'Chary' because of events earlier in my story that you've probably forgotten about by now._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

.


	26. Goblet of Fire Part 05

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_So far... Harry's fourth year but he's not in the Triwizard Tournament. Christmas is approaching and the students have been practising their dance steps for the Yule Ball on Christmas Day. Now read on... _

.

**Chapter 26**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 5**

* * *

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~~~ Decorations ~~~

A light snow fell overnight and the last day of lessons before Christmas was to be hectic for everyone, especially Harry.

"Snape's set me extra work over the holidays," he moaned as they walked up from the Potions classroom. "I'll have to start right after Christmas day to have a hope of finishing it."

A sniff from behind them made him look back.

"Think that's funny, do you Malfoy?" said Ron.

"Wouldn't bother if I were you, Potter," sneered Crabbe. Draco jabbed him in the arm with his elbow.

"Ignore them, Ron," hissed Harry out of the corner of his mouth and Hermione grabbed Ron and pressured him on more quickly to keep up with Harry who had jogged forward to meet Ginny coming from the other direction.

"I've got fifteen minutes, Harry," she said. "Burbage sent us to check out the decorations and compare how the Muggles do it in the textbook pictures. They have stair ladders, did you know? Look!" She held up the open book with an amazed look on her face.

"What's he mean by that you reckon?" said Ron as the Slytherins took a different corridor.

"It's 'stepladders,' Ginny. ... Ron, just forget about the Slytherins," said Harry. "It's easier in the long run."

"Oh yeah..." mused Ginny. "Imagine not being able to hover up the coloured trimmings and swags..." Her thoughts drifted to the coming holidays and she had a dreamy look in her eyes. "It'll be strange not to be at home for Christmas."

"Suits me fine," smiled Harry. "If you can call Privet Drive a home. Hey look!"

A tall Christmas tree was being elevated by Hagrid and Flitwick in the Entrance Hall ahead of them. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase. They took a quick peek into the Great Hall but were soon shooed away.

"Looks like they're still trying to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs," said Hermione.

She was right. The usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls. Musical greetings cards swam slowly through the air like sleepy paper birds and decorative streamers flashed overhead — though they could not fully obscure the sombre sky ceiling above. Along the passageways, suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them to add to the festive atmosphere.

Colin Creevey was taking photographs. "Alright, there, Harry?" He trotted over and Harry suppressed a groan.

"I'm taking pictures," he said breathlessly, "with my camera. You can never be too sure can you? Are you fixed up alright for the ball? I can help you if you're stuck on your own. You can ask a girl with a message and a nice picture — so they have to read it, don't they? It's romantic."

"Erm..." said Harry. Ginny squeezed his arm and grinned.

Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing, isn't it?"

"You mean the—?"

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? Guess what!" panted Colin. "I left one for Parvati. I wanted to do one for Romilda but neither of us is a fourth year. Rotten luck, eh? Keep your fingers crossed for me, eh, Harry?"

"Er - yeah, that's great, Colin," said Harry.

But Colin was running back after seeing Hagrid hoisting up a new decoration. He called back over his shoulder. "I'll look out for somebody for you as well if you like, Harry."

"Er... Colin..."

But Colin had disappeared behind Hagrid's latest tree.

"Looks like our secret romance is safe," grinned Ginny.

.

~~~ Duel Purpose ~~~

In the afternoon, Professor Moody stumped into the Defence classroom and, with a flick of his wand, sent all the desks and chairs scuttling nervously to the walls.

"You can put those books away, you won't need them" he growled from the blackboard.

"This is entirely practising and polishing of what you have learnt this term. Use only defensive spells, marker hexes, and mild attack types from the groups I'm writing up here."

"Great!" whispered Ron, giving Harry a nudge. "Showtime!"

Hermione pulled out her wand and adjusted her grip carefully, checking each finger alignment. Harry grinned; he could see she was mouthing through memorised procedures in preparation, her head nodding stressfully in rhythm.

Moody turned around. "I don't care if you choose the funny nose or the squeaky voice or whatever moderate spells you like for your attacks, concentrate on your shields, disarming, and most of all, dodging and weaving. I'll keep score on the blackboard and after a disarming, your colour will be cast onto your next target so stay sharp! When you've been disarmed seven times then you're out. Last man standing gets this handsome silver quill set for Christmas!"

A movement of his wand opened up a wooden display case on his desk then he turned back to the blackboard to complete his list.

"He must have 'accidentally' found it lying around in Scrivenshaft's," smirked Blaise Zabini to Draco but Malfoy did not respond.

Harry scowled. He respected Professor Moody and didn't enjoy how the Slytherin's made fun of him behind his back because of his odd appearance and bluff manner.

"The prize was donated," continued Moody, without turning around, "by the school governors as an incentive for the arrogant under-achievers who think they know it all. That'd be you, Zabini — yes, I can lipread, thank you."

Harry resolved that the Slytherins would not spoil his enjoyment of this session because he excelled at evading close-contact spells, partly through having learnt the hard way from his cousin Dudley's fists so his reflexes were excellent. He disarmed Seamus very early without taking a single hit. He handed back Seamus's wand with a grin and looked around for his next opponent. His red and orange marker glow triangle had alighted on Neville's back but Neville was still duelling Hannah Abbott so Harry had to wait. Neville was getting rather flustered because Hannah was using a tickling spell and he could not raise his wand for laughing.

"Move your feet, Longbottom and strike back!" shouted Moody.

Neville managed to sidestep Hannah's next jinx but she shielded herself before Neville could counter-attack — then ran at him. He was so taken aback by her sudden proximity that he had almost dropped his wand even before she shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

"Well done, Abbott!" growled Moody, as she handed back Neville's wand and curtsied before him.

"Take it easy, Harry, alright?" said Neville as they took up their stances opposite each other. "Let me get my breath back."

"Don't think dark wizards will let you get—"

Harry had to quickly try to dodge Neville's crafty dancing jinx but found one of his legs was doing a tango.

"Got you!" yelled Neville excitedly.

"I wasn't ready!" Harry shouted back with a grin.

"Don't think dark wizards will wait till you're ready, Harry!" laughed Neville.

"For that you must pay the ultimate price, Sir Neville! Eat snot!"

Neville gagged but remembered Moody's advice and ran sideways before spitting out Harry's curse and so avoided the follow-up Jelly-legs which Harry hurled after him.

They circled each other more warily after that. Neville's eyes flicked to the light on the side of Harry's face. "You've got Draco next, Harry."

"Don't think I'll fall for that old trick, Neville!" laughed Harry.

"No, really!" insisted Neville. "His light's on—"

"Expelliarmus," said Harry quietly.

"Too much talk, you two," said Moody, picking up Neville's fallen wand. "Talk is a good diversion but don't get caught up in it."

Harry had already turned, his wand raised. He was taking no chances with Malfoy. But it was Draco that looked worried. Malfoy frantically dashed to one side and cast a shield charm before conjuring up a diversionary spectre that dashed blackly through Harry, taking his breath away.

"Expelliarmus!" screamed Draco but Harry's shield was already up while he recovered.

"Steady, Malfoy," called Moody. "Remember, this is only practice."

Draco was sweating. He cast three more attempts to disarm Harry but Harry had no trouble blocking them with his shield. What was Draco up to? He was taking this way too seriously, thought Harry. So ferociously, in fact, that Harry had trouble getting in any kind of attack of his own. Malfoy was weaving about, casting shields, diversions, a flash blinder which almost physically hit Harry in the face, and repeatedly trying to disarm Harry for a quick kill. But his fervour simply made more Harry more alert and more defensive, waiting for an opportunity to strike back.

"Obscuro! Protego! Steleus! Confundo!"

Harry was driven back by an onslaught of spells from a frantically ambitious Malfoy which Harry barely was able to block or avoid.

"Get him, Harry!" It was Ron's voice but Harry dare not take his eyes off Malfoy's glare. The room was becoming quiet and he had the uncomfortable impression that all eyes were upon him and his opponent.

"Impedimenta! Stupefy! Expelliarmus!" Draco was exhausting himself and his magic.

"That's not allowed! Make them stop, Professor!" cried Hermione but Moody, with a strange expression on his face, was watching Harry swerve and twist very closely.

"Expelli—"

But Harry was already muttering his own incantation very softly and Draco never completed casting his spell. The Slytherin's wand flew from his grip. Harry plucked it out of the air and threw it back to him.

Draco stood panting with an anguished look of defeat on his face and something more. For an instant, Harry thought he saw fear in Malfoy's expression before he suddenly turned on his heel and walked away.

Ron said, "Awesome! Was that a nonverbal, Harry?"

Moody came over and looked at Harry inquisitively. Harry shook his head. "It's how much you feel it, not how loud you shout," he said.

"Quite right, Potter," said Moody, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to emphasise his encouragement, "though where you learnt that I do not know."

"Nor do I, sir," said Harry. He still had not taken his eyes off Malfoy.

"Right, don't stop!" cried Moody to the rest of the class. "Keep going!"

The duelling resumed. Within twenty minutes most of the class had been disarmed seven times and stood watching the others. Nobody had a clean record. Only Harry, Michael Corner, Hannah Abbott, Daphne Greengrass, and Hermione still had one or two lives left. When Harry disposed of Michael with a tripping hex he suddenly had a sick feeling he might win the entire contest. He imagined himself holding up the silver quills surrounded by a crowd of admiring students. It was a worrying possibility he knew. He felt fairly sure he could disarm Hermione because he knew all her moves so well. As for Greengrass, although he'd not duelled her himself, he had the impression she was not fast. He was less sure of Hannah; she had worked hard this term and knew how to take care of herself. But the light on his arm was a green and silver square.

Daphne Greengrass looked very determined and yet Harry detected apprehension in her expression. He cast a couple of slow hexes to test her reflexes and she easily blocked them. It was evident to him from her eye intensity when she was about to cast a spell so he found it easy to avoid or block her attacks. He speeded up his own offense.

"Impedimenta! Cantis!"

Daphne leapt over the tripping jinx but was forced to sing which she did rather badly off-tune and the spectators laughed uproariously. Unable to voice any further magic herself she had to resort to dodging Harry's spells so he prepared to disarm her. But Greengrass must have been very imaginative or else have prepared well for she suddenly sang to the tune of Jingle Bells, "Fin-ee-tay! Fin-ee-tay! Fin-ee-tay the way!" and cleared the curse. While she was doing that, Harry cast four spells in succession.

"Colloshoo! Colovaria! Rictusempra! Tarantallegra!"

Daphne turned various shade of blue and her feet glued themselves to the floor. She managed to unglue them only to suffer them dancing uncontrollably while she herself was immobilised with giggles under a severe tickling charm. She clutched her sides yet somehow still clung to her wand. The onlookers screamed with delight.

Abruptly, Harry felt ashamed. Greengrass had never done him any harm in her life yet he was toying with her just as Dudley had humiliated him so often at school. Her face was screwed up with distress and she seemed to be struggling to breath. He was impressed by her courage though. She strove to point her wand at him for one last quick kill.

"Exp— Exp— Expelli—!"

Most of the class were hooting their derision at the Slytherin girl. Harry could see her eyes. It looked as if she were pleading with him. He could stand it no longer. He pointed his wand, murmured something very softly, then cried slowly but surely, "Petr ... if ... ic ... us ...Tot—"

But before he could finish the incantation, Greengrass had called out "Expelliarmus!" and Harry's wand was torn from his hand and thrown across the room towards his adversary. Still tap-dancing rapidly, she lunged, grabbed at the wand, and held it up with relief and triumph written all over her face.

Professor Moody stepped forward, countered the dancing hex then looked at Harry rather curiously. He took him to one side.

"What were you thinking of, Potter? She may have been almost helpless but the body bind is always slower to cast and your snail-like incantation was just to taunt her wasn't it?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Never get carried away by making a duel too personal, Potter; it can be fatal. Always consider the most practical, safest way, to conclude the fight as rapidly as possible."

"Yes, Professor. I lost control. Having too much fun."

"Very well. At least you've learnt from the encounter." He turned around. "Well done, Greengrass, for never giving in."

"Thank you, Professor," panted Daphne as she handed Harry's wand back to him. "I think I got lucky."

"Not at all. You did very—"

"May I be excused, sir? I feel a bit sick." She was clutching her stomach.

Moody gave her a piercing look. "Be quick then. We'll resume the contest when you get back."

"No, I can't continue, Professor. I've got to—!" Abruptly she dashed for the door and disappeared through it.

Hermione joined Harry as they watched Hannah collect the Silver Quills prize.

"No luck, then?" said Harry to Hermione.

"No, she caught me out with a distraction and that sneezing thing! I hate that! It seems so unfair when you—! Stop laughing, Harry!" Hermione's consternation quickly changed to a grin and then she was laughing with him.

"Why, Harry? Why?" said Ron as he joined them. "She's just a stinkin' Slytherin."

"What?"

"You let her win."

Harry didn't answer.

"I was lined up right behind you. You were aiming over her head with that last one and so slow; you were obviously giving her a chance."

Hermione looked at Harry's face. He didn't deny Ron's claim in his expression.

"You felt sorry for her?" she said.

Harry nodded. "She looked so..."

"You soft ninny," said Hermione. "Greengrass is as hard as nails. She was playing you like a fish, Harry. That's what Slytherins do."

Harry shook his head but did not answer. He was sure the look he had seen in Daphne's eyes could not have been faked: it had been despair.

.

~~~ Christmas morn ~~~

On Christmas eve, Harry had worked late on his Potions homework but he made up for it by having a really long lie-in the next morning and missed breakfast entirely. The common room was crowded; almost everyone had stayed this year because of the Tournament. Music was playing and Fred had released various noise bubbles which popped, honked, raspberry'd, and even told one-line jokes in people's ears when least expected.

"Where's Ginny?" was the first thing Harry asked.

"Not awake yet, mate," said Ron. "Hermione's gone up again to try and wake her. Merry Christmas by the way."

"Disgraceful! Ginny's worse than I am," grinned Harry. "Merry Christmas, Ron."

He went over to the window and rubbed away some of the frost. There was only a weak sun but the thin covering of snow across the hills and the ice on the lake made it seem brighter.

"Ready for tonight, Harry?" waved Neville. He and Luna were trying to complete a beetle jigsaw puzzle but the ladybirds kept crawling out of position despite Luna threatening them with her wand.

A sleepy Ginny came down to join them half an hour later. Harry had already begged Isilbeth to get some pork pies, sausage rolls, and mince pies from the kitchens so he and Ginny sat together on the floor in a corner and picnicked on some wrapping paper.

"You'll never guess what, Harry," said Ron, as he sat down with them and stole a pie.

"We're minus one pie?"

"No, at the last minute, Krum asked Hermione to the ball."

"Well, that's hardly surprising. She's an attractive girl," said Harry. Ginny gave him a gentle nudge in the stomach and he grunted. "Where is she anyway?"

"Pre-conditioning her hair with a charm, ready for tonight," said Ginny. "She can't decide whether to have it up or down so she's prepping it to save time later."

"No, I don't mean I'm surprised that he asked," said Ron, "but that she turned him down. Just think! I never dreamt that one day I would be chosen over Viktor Krum, the greatest Seeker in the world! He'll have trouble finding a date at all now! For me, Harry! She turned him down for me! She's still going with me!"

"Well, of course she is! She'd already agreed to go with you, days ago." said Ginny, shaking her head at her brother's dreamy expression.

"Even so..." He went away, munching happily on his pork pie. "Hey! Seamus! You'll never guess what..."

Harry and Ginny looked at one another and grinned.

"I wish Viktor would ask me to the ball," said Harry. "Then I could turn him down as well."

Ginny laughed. "This is a great Christmas."

"The best Christmas ever," smiled Harry.

But gently, ever so gently, heavier snow clouds were moving in and the light of the sun would soon be lost.

.

~~~ The Ball ~~~

Well before eight o'clock, Luna came shimmering down from the girls' dormitories in a surprisingly classical white and silver ballgown with her hair a tumble of golden ringlets springing jauntily around her neck and shoulders. Harry watched Neville whisper something in her ear, saw her smile, then he took her hand and led her out.

"Neville's influence," murmured Seamus to Deane, nodding wisely.

"Who was that just went out?" said Ron, rushing down the boys' steps. "Wasn't...?"

"Don't be daft, Ron." said Harry. "Hermione won't go without you. That was Nev and Luna. So... she fixed up your robes then?"

"Yeah, not bad," grinned Ron nervously. "They're plain but at least I don't look like a total prat."

"You still look like half a prat though, Ronniekins," said Fred as he passed by with Angelina.

Ron scowled.

"Take no notice. Everybody's going to be jealous of you," said Harry to reassure him.

"Blimey! Here she comes!" gasped Ron. He jerked to attention and clutched at Harry's sleeve.

Hermione and Ginny descended together. Harry could have sworn they were floating down using hover charms.

Scarcely recognisable was Hermione with charm-silkened hair held high in an elegant knot. Her gown, magically suffused with periwinkle-blue, floated about her, and she held herself gracefully erect, was ennobled by it — though her beaming smile betrayed a trace of timidity. Both Ron and Harry stopped breathing for a while.

And Ginny was only partly eclipsed beyond Hermione's loveliness. Her hair — an ocean wave of dark-bright fire flashing with each turn of her gaze — fell upon her white neck and poured over the shoulders of a dress bewitched with palest hues of pink and green. Little Ginny, with a deeply embarrassed smile and cheeks that out-pinked her gown, took Harry's arm, seized his attention, and perhaps it was that evening that she fully stole his heart.

"Not quite so close, Harry," grinned Ginny, during the first dance, "people will notice. We're not in the hideaway now, you know!"

"Oh yeah, sorry."

"What's that in your pocket, anyway," she said.

"My lucky Golden Snitch — you know, the one from the cup match."

Ginny giggled out loud, attracting quite a few stares from those around her. "So... you're hoping to get lucky, are you, Harry?"

"Ginny, I'm the luckiest person in the whole world right now," he said.

"Alright there, Harry?" Colin Creevey swirled past in the arms of Romilda Vane. "You got sorted out okay, then? Terry swapped me with Parvati!" As he was swept away into the crowd of dancers he called back breathlessly, "Amazing, isn't it?"

And amazing it was. The event was an evening mostly of gaiety and laughter. Cedric and Cho made a fine couple while Krum, much to Ron's delight, looked miserable with Millicent Bulstrode hanging off his arm. Ron clung jealously to Hermione's side and gave the Bulgarian no opportunity to dance with his girl. Well, Hermione revelled in the attention as if she were in a storybook. She teased Ron without mercy, pretending to wander in Krum's direction only to swerve away to the buffet for a pastry or a morsel of cake and a drink.

"It's funny that Draco and his gang aren't here," said Ron as they all sat down to relax together. "Thought he'd be with pug-face Pansy. I was hoping to show him up for a change." Hermione giggled rather woozily and took another sip of Merrygrimp wine.

"Outclassed is what he is," smirked Harry. "He knows all the best girls are in Gryffindor. Look at Luna, for instance. Remember when she came to Hogwarts? Scrawny, gaunt, bug-eyed, scatterbrained, quirky, and scary."

"Her eyes are lovely, Harry!" protested Ginny. "I helped her with her makeup for tonight."

Harry watched as Luna and Neville chatted with Professor Sprout across the hall.

"Yeah, that's what I mean, they are now that she's erm... growing out a bit to match."

"Mmm..." swayed Hermione in her seat, slopping her wine. "What we're _shaying_... now saying... Loo... Lulu... _Loonee's_ beautiful, _shhh_..._shcatterbrained_, quirky, 'n' _shcary_?" snickered Hermione. She rubbed her nose as the giggles breathed in tickly bubbles of fizz.

"Hermione!" grinned Ron, "Try not to speak and drink at the same time! How many of those have you had, anyway?" said Ron.

"_Ish Merrygrimpsh_, my Ronald! _Ev'yone knowsh ish nod-alcolololic_..."

"Yeah, but it's charmed, Hermione. It's basically a fruity feelgood potion with enhancements."

"No _worrish, schweethar_'. I am _shafe_ in your culpable _handsh_..."

By midnight, as the revellers began to disperse, Ron was weary but Harry and Ginny, though they had participated in a great many of the dances, were still reasonably fresh.

"You see, Ron," said Ginny, "it pays to have a lie-in on the day before a late ball."

"I won't be able to sleep yet," Harry murmured happily to Ginny as they made their way back with the others to the common room. "I'm going to stay up another hour and make a start on that Potions homework."

"Ginny," Ron called back softly. "Can you help Hermione get to bed before she falls over?"

"Homework? You are joking, right, Harry? On Christmas night?" said Ginny as she moved ahead to where Hermione was almost sleepwalking against Ron.

"No, I'm wide awake," said Harry. "There'll be nobody in the common room."

He was wrong. After furtively kissing Ginny goodnight behind a pillar, he changed and set to with quill and ink at one of the common desks. But some remnants of the party gathered there too. Fred and Angelina were snogging before the fire. Katie and Colin and Romilda and the Patil twins were playing exploding snap under a Muffliato charm, and Deane, Neville, and Luna were sitting quietly discussing the evening and finishing off a bottle of pumpkin juice. It was not a noisy scene but Harry's attention was distracted enough to drive him off to his hideaway to complete his task.

Harry walked slowly to suppress the echoes of his footsteps in the empty passages. He glanced behind himself occasionally and stopped to listen at every corner and crossroad but although he thought he heard faint sounds, there was nobody to be seen. He stood waiting at the final corner and cast a revealing spell, but he was alone. He shrugged his shoulders and proceeded.

The Room was toasty warm and he smiled at the falling snow in the blackness of the magical window. The sofa tempted him to lounge before the bright fire — "Good old Isilbeth!" — but he resigned himself to the desk and there began to write his first notes. He read and wrote, and read again — he had scarcely filled one sheet of parchment when a faint sound made him turn around.

"I knew you'd be here." It was Ginny.

"You should get some sleep."

"Couldn't. I got up later than you, remember?"

"Well, now you've come, perhaps you can check that my list matches the textbook while I search for workable ingredients in the guide..."

"Sure..."

They worked quietly together, occasionally comparing results then revising his first notes. Sometimes they talked softly, discussing the work or diverting to other interesting topics then back again until Ginny, tiring of the work, made them both a hot chocolate drink and she flopped down onto the sofa before the fire to drink hers.

Harry's quill scratched on at the desk.

"You're determined to beat Snape, aren't you?" she yawned.

"Yeah. I'm sure Hermione's right. He's pushing me to catch up by the new year and I'm not going to have a big scene with him sneering at me in front of the whole class saying I failed. I want to see his face when I hand in this lot done and dusted after the holidays. That's why I want it as near-perfect as we can get. Thanks, Gin. I couldn't do it without you."

He turned to the appendix of his main textbook and took a big swig of his drink then traced his wand down the columns with a finding charm. All was very quiet.

"Next year, Ginny, you'll be top of your class in Potions, I reckon."

Harry scratched away with his quill for another minute. Occasionally there was a glassy clunk as he dipped into his inkwell.

"Have we got more blue ink?" he said, examining the end of his nib.

He took out his penknife and sharpened the dry quill a little more.

"Ginny?"

One glance over his shoulder showed him she was asleep, sagged back into the squashy sofa. Gently he took the near-finished mug from her hand, slipped off her shoes, carefully swung her legs up onto the sofa, then went back to the desk. It was dark outside, very dark...

.

—oOo—

.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

_Okay, I had to put the Yule Ball in but I made it reasonably brief and different. I thought it would be fun to make Hermione tipsy. After this, at last, the story will finally start to take new directions._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	27. Goblet of Fire Part 06

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_So far... It was a wonderful Yule Ball but, still wide awake and with a mountain of Potions homework, Harry and Ginny worked late into the night that Christmas day until Ginny finally fell asleep on the hideaway's sofa. Meanwhile, Harry continued working at his desk. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 27**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 6**

* * *

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~~~ Gone ~~~

Ginny awoke into that happy, dozy state where the body is deeply relaxed and the mind is at its most lethargic. For twenty minutes she lay, still half-dreaming, until she became aware of Harry getting up from the desk and shuffling over to her. She stretched a tiny, lazy stretch and opened her eyes a crack. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She could see he looked tired.

"I'll bring you up some breakfast, Ginny. Won't be long."

As he went out, the clock showed that breakfast in the Great Hall was just beginning. She closed her eyes and reminisced about the Christmas Ball yesterday evening: the swirling gowns of colour, the smart dress robes, the intoxicating music...

When she finally awoke from her sleep and glanced at her watch, Ginny was surprised to see that almost another hour had passed.

"Harry?"

Her shoes she found neatly placed, warming before the hearth, and a happy smile touched her lips. A vision of Prince Charming kissing her bare feet as he removed her glass slippers teased her mind.

When she opened the door to go out she was startled: Ron stood opposite examining the troll tapestry.

"Nice night?" he grunted.

"Where's Harry?" yawned Ginny, still a little sleepy.

Ron turned so she could see his bitter expression. "Gone," he said.

"Gone? Gone where? Why?" Every vestige of sleepiness had abruptly fled.

"Why? Oh, a small matter of trying to murder Crabbe, perhaps?" snarled Ron.

If Ginny's eyes had been heavy-lidded a few moments earlier, now they were wide open, blinking in astonishment.

"What's happened!" she cried. "Tell me!"

"He's just been seen Imperiusing Crabbe to jump off a balcony. Harry's been taken away! He ought to be in Azkaban!"

Ginny's shriek echoed down the stone passages as she ran past Ron, heading for the stairs. He whirled around to call after her.

"Better think before you act rashly, Ginny, right? Think about mum and dad."

She stopped and said, without looking round, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

He pushed past her and she watched him stomping down the steps ahead of her.

.

~~~ Downfall ~~~

One hour before Ginny's encounter with Ron, Harry had indeed intended to slip into breakfast and sneak back with something for Ginny — but he never reached the Gryffindor table. When he entered, he became aware that every eye was upon him.

"Harry Potter." It was Professor Dumbledore's voice and was not to be ignored. "Up here, please."

It was if a spotlight fell upon the solitary figure of Harry Potter as he walked towards the front of the Great Hall. No one was eating breakfast. All were staring at Harry and the group of people around Dumbledore that he was approaching: Karkaroff, the highmaster of Durmstrang Institute, was there with one of his Bulgarian students and Professors McGonagall and Snape stood to the other side of Dumbledore.

"Harry, may I ask where you have been this last hour?" said Dumbledore. He spoke quietly but his voice carried across the silent chamber.

Harry thought hard. He was used to being accused by his uncle — mostly for mistakes but almost as often for things he had not done at all; which was this? It was almost always best to admit his failings and quickly agree with his accuser. "Yes, sir. I was..." He tailed off as he remembered Ginny still asleep upstairs. He could not confess to having spent the night alone with her. "I..."

"Yes?"

"I cannot say, Professor."

A tide of astonished gasps surged across the hall then fell back.

"Cannot? Or will not, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

Harry did not hesitate. When accused, he knew the best strategy was to choose a path and not stray from it. "Will not, Professor."

Another wave of deep breaths was drawn.

"You see!" cried Karkaroff. "He—!"

Dumbledore merely raised his hand and the highmaster fell silent. "Harry, there was a battlefield of snowball fights outside this morning. Where you out there?"

Harry frowned. "No, sir."

"So you remained within the castle?"

Harry nodded.

"Yet you were not in your dormitory, were you?"

Harry swung around towards the Gryffindor table. Ron flushed and lowered his head.

"Yet you will not say where you were?"

"We know where he was, Albus!" said Karkaroff.

Again, Dumbledore made a motion and there was a long silence.

"Were you perhaps... on the seventh floor, Harry?"

Harry could see no harm in admitting that. "Yes, sir... perhaps."

"You _vus_ there, most definitely, Potter! I saw you!" It was the Bulgarian student who had spoken.

"Headmaster," said Snape, "perhaps Potter should hear what the witness has to say before he digs himself in any deeper."

"Very well, Severus."

"Tell them again what happened, Poliakoff!" snapped the Durmstrang head.

"_Vos_ like I _haff_ said. Potter here _vos_ already on the balcony _ven_ I stepped out. I saw him _und_ heard him cast the Imperius Curse upon Crabbe."

The gathering seemed to have run out of air with which to gasp as they listened enthralled to Poliakoff — most of them for the first time.

"Crabbe climbed on the handrail. It _vos_ icy. He _vobbled..._ to _und_ fro like a drunkard — then he _chumped!_" The youth waved his arms wide to indicate how someone might balance themself.

Snape thrust forward his hands, palms upwards, to indicate that in his opinion there could be no further doubt.

Dumbledore frowned.

"But might he not have slipped, Headmaster?" said McGonagall. "He said it was icy!"

They all looked at Poliakoff who hesitated.

Karkaroff growled, "He already said he jumped! You said he jumped didn't you, Poliakoff?"

"Let the boy answer," said Dumbledore, softly. "Poliakoff, you realise the importance of your testimony, don't you? If there is any doubt whatsoever, you are obliged to say so now. Might Crabbe have slipped?"

Poliakoff frowned. "Vos possible, yis. But—"

"Very well then. We need—"

"A few drops of Veritaserum will settle the matter," said Snape.

"Severus, you know as well as I that the use of Veritaserum on students is forbidden. However, there is an easier way of solving this once and for all. Harry, your wand if you please."

"Sir?"

"I would like to examine your wand."

Reluctantly, Harry drew his wand from a pocket in his robes and held it out.

"Are you sure this is your wand, Harry?" said Dumbledore, without taking it.

Harry looked puzzled. He examined the wand very briefly then said, "Of course. I'd know it anywhere. I know every little mark, every scratch."

"And you have had it with you for the last hour? No one could have borrowed it?"

"Impossible! It's always with me!" He cast up a small spray of green sparks and they fell harmlessly to the floor. "It's mine alright, I can feel it's mine! It was with me all night where nobody could... I used it not long ago on..."

"Yes?"

"Professor. ... Sir, Might I ask... Is Crabbe alright?" said Harry.

Karkaroff snorted.

Dumbledore took the wand that Harry was holding out and replied while he examined it. "Fortunately, the snow drifts around the castle are extremely deep. Crabbe is in the hospital wing with nothing more serious than a broken leg."

Harry shoulders relaxed a little as he breathed out — a movement not lost on Snape.

"A guilty sigh of relief, Potter?"

"No sir! Just... glad he's not..."

"I'm sure you are, Potter!" said Snape. "Azkaban is not pleasant at any time of the year. The North Sea must be mind-numbingly cold in this weather."

"Now, now, Severus. No need to frighten the boy," said Dumbledore. He pointed his own wand at Harry's.

"Prior Incantato," said Dumbledore.

A faint impression of green sparks show briefly in the air between them.

"Prior Incantato," repeated Dumbledore, clear and loud, that all might hear.

To Harry's dismay and further gasps from the onlookers, a ghostly figure began to swell from his wand and eventually to sway unsteadily just beyond it. Now the crowd did find their voices.

"It's Vincent!", "That's him!", "Crabbe!" was shouted from the Slytherins' benches.

The apparition wavered, its arms flailing, then fell to one side, shrieking down through the floor.

"Headmaster, there can be no doubt surely?" said Snape. He rounded angrily on Harry. "Crabbe might have died and you are responsible, Potter! Do you deny it!"

Harry thought then of Ginny's family and of her reputation. He could not endure such an outrage. "No, sir, I do not deny it."

Dumbledore had a pained expression. Solemnly he handed back Harry's wand to him and, addressing Snape and McGonagall, "Intentional murder cannot be proven but nevertheless, recklessly risking the life of another student demands the school's most serious punishment." He looked now upon Harry and spoke very softly, "Harry... I have no choice..."

His voice then rose into a loud announcement for all to hear, "Harry Potter, it is my solemn duty as headmaster of Hogwarts to declare you expelled from this school without further notice. You will be taken away from the vicinity of Hogwarts immediately without diversion or discussion. In these cases, which fortunately are exceedingly rare, Hogwarts will forward to you any properties you still have within the castle."

There was no twinkle in his eye, only a look of intense disappointment that cut through Harry much more sharply than any vicious reprimand from Snape or even his Uncle Vernon.

"Go!"

Dumbledore's final remark crushed Harry utterly. He turned... and it was as if a deathly meadow of pallid faces was spread out before him, expressing their shock and disgust. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs appeared numb with horror; the Slytherins showed grim satisfaction, some were visibly gloating with silent laughter; and the Gryffindors were looking upon him with disappointment almost as deep and penetrating as Dumbledore's. In the midst of them was Neville, white-faced with astonishment; Luna, frowning and puzzled; Hermione, tears openly streaming down her face as she dabbed at them with her hankie and her body straining to run forward and hug him, while Harry desperately, desperately hoped that she would not, yet at the same time wishing she would. Ron, furious, glared at him, and Ginny... Ginny not there at all of course; she would still be asleep upstairs, completely oblivious of his disgrace.

A deep chill settled in Harry's heart then and the depth of his feelings for Ginny became more apparent now she was lost to him forever. Her devotion he well knew and his sadness increased as he thought of how she might suffer.

Tortured by these thoughts, it seemed to take an eternity to walk past the silent multitude. A sleigh decoration had paused in mid-flight and a tiny Santa was shaking its head and looking down upon the one beneath him. Festive streamers hung now like grey rags across the hall while the twelve tall trees leaned accusingly above him. One of the Slytherins tried to leg him over as he passed. Harry stumbled, twisting around until his arm lunged out instinctively to grab their table. And there were all their leering faces, distorted and enlarged to a mind that had shrunken with shame, all rejoicing in the final, ultimate downfall of Harry Potter — all, that is, but Malfoy whose face, more pallid than usual, was staring down at his empty breakfast plate, as if disappointed that he no longer had an adversary to provoke and humiliate.

McGonagall seized his arm. "This way, Potter," she said firmly.

The Entrance Hall was dark, its far walls inversely silhouetted by the blinding-white doorway that was to devour him.

"Quickly, Potter, take this." McGonagall thrust a fountain pen into his hand. "The nib is a Portkey but you cannot use it until you are beyond the protected boundaries. Go now."

Dazed, uncomprehending, Harry took the pen and stepped out and away from where his heart still resided. The youth found himself now unable to look back as he descended the cold stone steps and trudged through the clumped and dirty snow before the front entrance. He could not face that view of the castle he had regarded as his only real home for so long but which now he was leaving forever. Ahead of him, the partly-cleared driveway appeared as grey as the sky and the snow piled on either side reclaimed the dull path long before the gates of Hogwarts came into view. All of life seemed washed out, pallid, worthless, so Harry was slow to respond to the dark shape that lurked to one side beyond the locked boundaries.

The gates swung open as he approached and slammed shut with a clang of finality behind him after he had passed through. Yet, however numb he was to his surroundings, the silent, black, shadowy movement finally penetrated his senses to alert him to danger.

His wand came to his hand instinctively, even before he comprehended what confronted him. It was a huge black creature that danced and swung about him, looking for an opening, Harry, confused by misery, obeyed one of the most primitive of instincts: he ran. But the beast leapt easily ahead, twisted almost in mid-air, and pounced upon his chest, flattening him onto the bank of snow at the side of the road. His wand spun away from his grasp beyond his reach and Harry, all the breath knocked out of him, looked helplessly upwards into the sharp fangs of the drooling beast that seized him by the arm and dragged him effortlessly over the bank and into the thick holly bushes that flanked the gates of Hogwarts.

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~~~ Dark Creature ~~~

Such was the state of Harry's mind, and so quickly had the attack taken place, that it was some moments before the pain of the scratches inflicted by the sharp leaves brought him out of his daze. He recognised the creature that was now retrieving his wand from the snow and which crawled back into the bush, dropped the wand by his side and lay down next to it. It was a huge black dog and Harry felt sure it was the same one that had dragged off Ron last year. His brow furrowed deeply as he tried to recall what Ron had said about Sirius Black's dog and in a flash he remembered: Black _is_ the dog and Hermione had said he had never been trying to kill Harry — he had been after Scabbers.

"You're Sirius Black, aren't you!"

The dog was panting heavily and wagged its tail. Harry felt stupid talking to a dumb animal.

"What's going on? Why'd you attack me just now? I thought..."

The crunching of footsteps coming up the snow-covered road made Harry fall silent. Three men he glimpsed through the gaps in the thorny leafage.

"Damn you, Selwyn! He could have Apparated by now!"

"I came at the summons as did you, Goyle! It is mere minutes!" The man's voice was harsh as if from a sore throat.

"Quiet, you two!" whispered a third voice. "He could not have passed us and I doubt a fourteen-year old could Apparate yet."

"Not impossible, Rowle," said Selwyn.

"No, but unlikely. Could he still be within the castle?"

The three pulled at the strings of blossoms and ever-green foliage that half-obscured the wrought iron gate and peered through. One of them tested the protective spells with his wand.

"You're wasting your time, Goyle. They never relax the wards," rasped Selwyn.

"Then where In Merlin's hell has he got to?" said Goyle. "My information is that he departed the Great Hall..." He looked at his watch. "About seventeen minutes ago."

"Is that all?" gasped Selwyn, and he coughed as the bitterly cold air sucked into his lungs. "Then he'll be ... gathering his belongings won't he you fool! He's still in there."

"Not necessarily," said Rowle, turning to look directly at where Harry lay within the holly frontage that hedged the walls. He was so close that Harry could clearly see his pinched lips between the breaths that were fogging the air before him as he spoke. But Rowle swung his arm to point down the road. "If he came straight out he might have turned off towards the station before we came out of the village."

"Absurd!" croaked Selwyn. "There's no train scheduled for..." — The man again broke off into a short bout of coughing then wheezed, "...a single ... student, let alone ... one who's been ... booted out."

"Yes, but does Potter realise that?" said Goyle. " My boy told me he's an idiot by all accounts and doesn't know one end of a wand from the other. He was trounced utterly by a Slytherin the other day in a Defence class. He's a wimpish little turd."

Harry stiffened and his grip tightened on his wand, then, a moment later, he felt a reassuring forepaw lay across his arm.

"So why all the ... fuss?" wheezed Selwyn. "Why does ... _he_ ... wish ... him taken?"

"No idea. Lucius said it was old magic when I passed him the vital fluid — and for which he claimed credit I might add!" flared Goyle, then added proudly, "It's my son that should have been honoured, not his."

He paced up and down in annoyance for a while, frowning as he did so and flapping his arms about his body to try to keep warm.

Rowle looked at his watch then at the other two. "Selwyn, since you're so sure, you stay here and watch the gate. Goyle — check the train station. I'll guard the turnoff into Hogsmeade. He can't get by me."

"And when we find him?" said Goyle.

"He's only one kid and unprepared," said Rowle. "Just stun him, send up green sparks so we all know, then Disapparate him away. We'll join you at the mansion."

"I hope it's me that gets him," said Goyle as he hurried off down the track with Rowle following more sedately. Selwyn shifted his position and peered back between the iron scrollwork of the gate. The fogged breath of his coughing could not pass through the wards but curled away and dissipated cleanly in the still, cold air.

While his back was turned, Harry felt the dog beside him shuffling out through the far edge of the holly bushes behind the snow heaped at the side of the road. Harry crawled after him. They made slow progress, keeping low and pausing to make sure they could sense from Selwyn's cough that he remained at the gate and was still facing away from them. Only when they had rounded the curve in the road did they stumble upright and continue along behind the thick snowbank.

In this way they silently proceeded, never catching up with the other two nor wishing to, until, at last, a side-road indicated the approach to Hogsmeade. And there stood Rowle. Even Harry was not fooled by his Disillusionment charm. Tiny traces of mist appeared at the height of a man's mouth and the snow below was being visibly churned as the man softly moved his feet in an effort to keep warm.

Harry was becoming acutely aware himself of how chilled he was. He had emerged into the open air without a cloak and with a mind in confusion. Now that danger had cleared and focused his thoughts, the intensity of the cold became very apparent. He crouched with the dog behind the piled up snow, shivering and wondering how they might pass the sentry before Harry succumbed to the frigid conditions.

There was a broad stump on Rowle's open corner and Harry watch snow being scooped away from its top but it was clear that Rowle had changed his mind about sitting himself upon it. Wet hands could be heard rubbing rapidly together and Harry imagined the man then tucking his fingers under his arms. He hoped Rowle was as cold as himself; he might be more inclined to leave early.

Thinking hard, Harry considered the possibilities. If he hovered or flung a snowball up the road as a distraction that might allow them to proceed into the village while Rowle was investigating the sound in the wrong direction — but Rowle would then become highly suspicious that Harry was still in the vicinity. Rowle was vulnerable to a quick, surprise attack — he couldn't know he was being observed. Harry was tempted. There would then, however, be no doubt that he had not yet escaped the area. The other two would bring more help very quickly. He wondered if he should just wait all day until it became dark — but the prospect of freezing to death seemed both likely and unpleasant. His invisibility cloak he remembered then and groaned inwardly that it was securely hidden at the bottom of his trunk back in the castle dormitory. The concealment charm that Rowle was using might have been worth the risk — if only he knew how to cast the spell.

Harry resigned himself to the conclusion that there was no way to get past the man. Returning to the castle was out of the question. Proceeding along the main road to an unmanned train station without even a waiting room in which to shelter would be foolish. Harry Potter was in a fix without a solution and he knew it. Should he surrender? What did these people want with him? Who knows what horrors awaited him at their hands? Instinct told him that it would be preferable to die here in the bitter cold.

Resigned to a painful death, he knew his last hope was that they might simply give up and leave before he died. If only they would just go...

He had craftily avoided many a trap and a punishment during his youth at four, Privet Drive. _Come on, Harry, think!_ He looked at his watch. What about his heartfelt seventh birthday wish that had moved all the clocks forward and sent the Dursleys out an hour early!

Harry grinned. He patted Sirius on the head then he was crawling past the dog away towards the station — on hands and knees at first but soon at a stumbling run when he was out of Rowle's line of sight. After a few hundred paces he stopped, turned and crouched low once more. Sirius had silently followed him, presumably unable to offer any ideas of his own.

"I don't suppose you can talk? If so, now would be a good time if you have any suggestions?" said Harry, reaching, with freezing fingers, for his wand.

He needed both numbed hands to hold it but even so the wand shook as he pointed it to the dull grey heavens and cast green sparks as high as he could.

There was no point in waiting. He made his way back to the turn-off unable to even cross his fingers so cold was he now. Rowle was gone, leaving only a trodden circle to show where he had stood. Harry Potter walked — for the first time in his life and without even needing a signed form from his uncle — into the village of Hogsmeade with the big black dog trotting happily at his side. He had no idea what he might do there but he was so cold now he didn't care about risk anymore. He had a few Galleons in his pocket and he would walk into the first warm tavern or café he found — or so he thought.

Sirius had other intentions, and grasping gently but firmly at Harry's arm with his sturdy jaws he indicated that Harry should follow him.

There were few people about on this dull grey morning and such as were, they took no notice of an unremarkable boy and his dog for most of them were hurrying about their own errands, eager to get out of the bitter cold and continue enjoying their Christmas festivities. Nor did Harry much care nor take any interest in them for he could barely think now, so cold was he. All feeling in his feet had long since gone. He shambled after the dog, out beyond the far edge of the tiny village, over a snowy bank so high that it might have concealed a fence, and thence across snowfields of rising ground until, at last, he fell and knew no more.

.

—oOo—

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**Author's Notes**

_An idea has been raised about mastering another's wand in a practice session. My take on this is that you cannot win a wand in a practice duel because it's 'not for real.' Otherwise, there would be a lot of wands mastered around the wizarding world and nobody would know whose wand is whose! All of the D.A. members for instance practised for months and would frequently take an opponent's wand. And Hannah Abbott, who won seven wands (if my arithmetic is correct) in my story, would be master of eight and Harry master of about seven, including Neville's and Draco's and so on. As with so much magic then, imo it's about feelings, intent, and 'you've got to have really meant it' when you fight and lose._

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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	28. Goblet of Fire Part 07

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_So far... 4th year (but Harry is **not** in the Triwizard Tournament.) On the day after Christmas, Harry was expelled for allegedly using the Imperius Curse on Crabbe causing him to jump from a Hogwarts balcony. Death Eaters arrived at the gates of Hogwarts to trap Harry but, with the help of Sirius Black transformed as a big black dog, he eluded them and escaped through Hogsmeade. However, it is bitterly cold and Harry collapsed in the snow with hypothermia. Now read on... _

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**Chapter 28**

**Chary Potter and the Goblet of Fire Part 7**

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~~~ The Beast's Lair ~~~

When Harry came to his senses the first thing he did was cry out in pain where he lay. His hands and feet burned in waves of agony. He fought but succumbed to the ordeal, almost crying, so great was his desire to be relieved of the torture.

"Grit your teeth and hang on, Harry. It will pass in a few minutes once your circulation gets into your frozen limbs again."

He became aware of the smell of scented woodsmoke in his nostrils, glorious warmth bathing over him that he could not yet appreciate, and flickering light playing softly through his eyelids. He opened them a crack.

Above him stood a man with long, untidy black hair and ragged grey robes yellowed by the firelight. Beyond this crude figure, rough stone walls were outlined by dark, dancing shadows in every crack and crevice. A kettle swung from a small metal scaffold above a fire of cedar logs that smoked upwards through a tiny slanting gap in a ceiling of cracked rock. The man waited anxiously for several minutes while Harry lay suffering.

"How's the pain now?" he said finally.

"Easing off, a b-bit I th-think," stammered Harry, his teeth chattering together as he tried to speak. He eased himself up into a sitting position on the thick blankets upon which he had lain. He rubbed at his scar. It had been prickling slightly but it too, was less uncomfortable now. He wondered if it had been hurting while he lay unconscious.

"That was a neat trick I must say, Harry," the man said. "I admit I was stuck for ideas. If I had—"

"I'm hoping G- Goyle at the s- station's as th- thick as his son, and n- nobody'll b- believe he didn't send up those green sss- sparks b- by m- mistake," gasped Harry.

"No worry on that score, Goyle senior is so dumb that he'll believe it himself after two minutes persuasion."

The man's wry smile was replaced by a more serious expression. "Harry, I'm sorry I wasn't much help. If I had revealed myself... if anyone had seen my likeness to the wanted posters... Well, the village would have been flooded with Dementors in minutes. Then I could neither help you nor myself. Of course, as a last resort, I would have."

Harry stared at the scruffy figure. "Excuse me b- but... You're Sirius B- Black, right?" The man nodded. "W- Why exactly are you helping m- me? What do you care?"

There was a flicker of bitter emotion in the man's eyes. "Harry... hasn't Dumbledore told you?" Sirius Black paused and Harry could see he was choosing his words carefully. "I was a very close friend of both of your parents, Harry. Went to school with them. I was there at the wedding. I held you as a baby."

Harry was astonished and silenced. For as long as he could remember, he had regarded his parents as mere abstractions. His only link to them had been his Aunt Petunia, but his aunt had always been as icily remote as the south pole and his parents seemed to lie even further — beyond that unreachable barrier. The few times she had mentioned them, her attitude had been scathing and dismissive, making them seem as worthless as himself, and, like himself, not worth another thought. Now, here was a living friend of his parents who spoke of them with reverence in his tone.

"Professor McGonagall only said you had helped You-know-who locate them — that was before we knew the truth!" he added quickly on seeing Sirius' expression — "It never occurred to me that you knew them personally, let alone were friends."

"Yes, we were school chums. James and Remus — Professor Lupin to you, Harry — we did everything together."

Harry's eyes bulged. "Professor Lupin knew my parents too?" His expression was one of incredulity for a few moments then he lapsed into disappointment. "He never said. Why didn't he say...?"

"Lupin has... problems of his own. He might think it wise not to... involve you too closely. Has he shown no... special interest in your welfare at all?"

"No he hasn't... well, yes, he... but... I supposed that was because I'm good at Defence." Harry's pride showed on his face briefly then he flushed a little and added, "Well, not bad." He muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, Harry?" said Sirius as he reached for the kettle which had begun venting steam. Water dripped from its spout and hissed and sizzled as it hit the glowing logs below.

"I said, I'm used to having to defend myself. It can be a little rough at home..."

Sirius' eyes flickered briefly towards Harry, then he poured water into a dented pewter teapot on the earth floor. "I heard you put down Malfoy's son with one punch a couple of years ago."

"Yeah, well, he asked for it. Anyway, they paid me back at the end of last term. Must have been him and Crabbe and Goyle; they beat me up at school after the cup match. I woke up in the hospital wing." He laughed dryly.

Sirius looked closely at Harry. "Goyle's boy did? Goyle was involved?" Sirius stopped in mid-pour and slopped hot water onto the floor where it soaked into the dirt to leave a dark patch.

"They hang out together. They're all cowards. I'm sure it must have been them."

"Harry... This is important... Were you... How badly were you injured? Did they... give you a nose bleed for instance?"

"Probably. I was bruised all over. My arm was gashed and—"

"It was bloody?"

"Guess so..." He rolled up his sleeve and showed Sirius the scar on his arm. "Why?"

"I'm not sure..." Sirius stirred the brew with a small stick, flipped the lid shut on the teapot then stood up and began pacing slowly. "Goyle mentioned something about... 'vital fluid' when we were at the gate, remember?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. A faint memory was nagging at the back of his mind but he couldn't quite bring it forward. His gaze fell upon the teapot and his companion noticed. Sirius crouched down and poured tea into a couple of cracked mugs and handed one to Harry.

"No milk or sugar I'm afraid, Harry."

Harry took the cup and sipped at the drink gratefully, feeling the hot liquid descend inside him. Suddenly he gasped and pulled the mug away from his lips.

"Hot enough for you?" said Sirius, and a faint smile teased at the corner of his mouth.

"I had a dream that may have been about blood. I'd forgotten. Last summer I think it was — yes, I was in my... Anyway, Malfoy gave a little bottle to someone called Wormtail and there was—"

Abruptly, Sirius stood up from where he was crouching and cradled his own mug in his hands to prevent it spilling over. "Wormtail you said? In your dream with Malfoy?"

"Yes. It was just a nightmare but you reminded me of it when you said—"

"Harry. Tell me about it. Tell me every detail you can remember." Sirius dragged a scruffy haversack closer to Harry then sat on it.

"Not much to remember. It was a living room with a fireplace and a lit fire. The strangest thing was they had a snake on the hearthrug."

"A snake?"

"Yeah, a big one. Lucius Malfoy gave Wormtail a tiny bottle. I thought it was poison — in the dream I mean — but somehow I think I knew what it was."

"Blood?"

Harry nodded. "It was dark red, anyway — almost black."

"Did they say anything?"

"No. It was the other guy who did most of the talking. I couldn't see him properly. Short... I suppose. I could only see the back of his chair. He was telling off Mr Malfoy for not searching for him. Oh! yeah, he was a nobleman I think, leastways Malfoy called him 'My Lord' and he was kind of bowing and scraping like... What's the matter!"

Sirius, whose face was already pallid from years in Azkaban, now looked positively grey with horror.

"What's wrong, Mr Black?"

"Have you told Dumbledore this?"

"Dumbledore? Why would I tell him?"

"You had a dream about Pettigrew, Harry! Didn't you think it—"

"Pettigrew? No, this was—"

Realisation showed in Sirius' face.

"'Wormtail' is Pettigrew's nickname, Harry! That's what we called him. Your dad was Prongs. I'm Padfoot. Remus is—"

"MOONY! I remember now where I saw the name 'Wormtail!' I have a... well, I found a map with your nicknames on it."

Sirius blinked with surprise and his rollercoaster of excitement slowed to thoughtfulness. "I'd have guessed that map was destroyed long ago."

He fell to pondering and Harry watched different emotions crossing Sirius' face: an amused smile, eyes suddenly dark with sorrow, a fidget of embarrassment, the wry smile again, annoyance, and then concern...

"Harry, I'd like you to write down every detail from your dream and send it to Professor Dumbledore with a message. We'll see what he makes of it all."

"How'd we do that?"

There was a hooting sound from the shadows.

"Hedwig! What are you doing here!" Harry stood up, winced as he stretched his limbs, then walked stiffly over to the owl, delighted to see a familiar face that had remained friendly after his exposure in the Great Hall earlier.

"And my trunk! My bags! How'd you get these, Mr Black? Where are we anyway?"

"Call me Sirius, Harry." He opened his arms to gesture at his surroundings. "It's a cave not far from Hogsmeade. Presumably the castle sent your luggage. Or more likely, Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore! How would he..." Harry paused while he looked closely at Sirius. "Why were you at the gate when I came out?"

"Message from Dumbledore. Patronus. Urgent he said."

Harry blinked rapidly and shook his head in bewilderment. "A what? Why...? How...?" He thought for a few moments. "Who were those people at the gate?"

"Death Eaters, Harry."

"Death... what?"

"Death Eaters, Voldemort supporters."

"My God!" Harry's mouth gaped wide and he looked up to the roof of the cave, almost lost in darkness. "I already knew he was alive but I thought a long way from me in..." He looked back at Sirius. "I had another dream. Well, sort of. It was in my head. It was... a couple of years ago. I wasn't even asleep. I convinced myself afterwards it was just imagination. You-know-who was with Professor Quirrell. I couldn't see either of them really but I know they were there from what was said. They went back to Albania. I've already told Dumbledore that one."

Sirius stared. "That's where he was rumoured to be. That must be where Wormtail found him!"

Harry clamped his hands on either side of his head trying to absorb all these new ideas. "Mr Black... Sirius, why are you here? I thought you were on the run — far away."

"I have no way to travel far, at least, not easily. Portkeys are not that easily come by and I daren't use the Floo system. Oh, I can Apparate but it takes a powerful wizard to reach other countries that way. Anyway, I wanted to remain close..."

"Why?"

"You're my godson, Harry. I have an obligation to James and Lily."

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~~~ Planning with Padfoot ~~~

Sirius sat up late that night; he was troubled. With a trace of envy he watched as Harry slept completely at ease on the hard ground with only a few blankets around him. Despite years of bedding himself down upon only a thin pallet of straw with Dementors never far away, Sirius still had difficulty getting comfortable on the cave's dirt floor. He wrapped his own thick blanket more tightly around himself and stood up.

At the cave entrance he gazed out into the night. Faint halos of light marked Hogsmeade's position in the distance. He sighed. How was he to feed Harry? It had been difficult for himself, even as a dog, to survive only on rats — but Harry was no dog.

He sat himself down on his lookout stool, placed his feet upon a filthy mat resting on the frozen slush, and lounged sideways against the rock face, resolving in good faith to keep watch until morning. But eventually sleep took him; it had been an emotionally draining day.

Dawn's early light woke him a few hours later. He rubbed his stiff neck and looked out upon a thick morning mist that pooled across the village below the snow-covered slopes. Harry was awake; he could hear him tinkering with the kettle behind him.

Presently, Harry joined him — he had been hoping he would — dragging out the rucksack as a seat and bringing the two mugs steaming into the open air.

"It's beautiful," said Harry. "It nearly killed me yesterday but this wintry weather looks really pretty from up here."

"It still might, Harry," said Sirius, accepting the proffered tea and taking a first swig. "We'll probably die of malnutrition admiring the scenery."

Harry snorted steam out of his nose. "But there's loads of shops down there. Oh! You mean... Well, I'll pay, of course. Least I can do to cover the cost of my room in this... luxury hotel! I've got a bagful of Galleons in my trunk."

Sirius looked sorrowfully at Harry. "You don't understand yet, do you? Harry Potter can no longer wander around freely in public. You didn't think Voldemort would just give up after yesterday, did you?"

"Then how do I get back home!"

"Home? You can't go back home, Harry. You'd be helplessly exposed."

Harry stared back at Sirius for a while, then turned again towards the highest roofs of Hogsmeade that were peeping above the fog. "Sirius, can you do that spell that Rowle used yesterday?"

"The concealment? Not good enough. Oh, I'll show you and you might get away with a few visits if you're lucky but it's high risk. That charm is best at night or at a distance. It won't make you completely invisible."

Harry jerked upright on his improvised seat. "My cloak! It's right here of course!" He saw Sirius' puzzled expression then added, "I got an invisibility cloak for Christmas in my first year. Hardly used it."

Harry lapsed into silence then as he thought of Ginny and himself concealed by the cloak up in the Astronomy Tower. How would she have felt to awaken and find him gone without even a goodbye? But then he considered how she might have felt if the school had known they had spent the night together. _What would her mum and dad have thought? Poor Ginny! If only they could hide away together under his cloak in a nice cosy cupboard forever, away from the world and all its troubles..._

A sudden thought occurred to him. "But you knew my dad — it was his cloak originally."

"Ah, _that_ cloak! Of course! I haven't thought of it in years!" said Sirius, nodding his head excitedly. "He could go almost anywhere with that!" He laughed softly. "Harry, this changes everything! The old cloak! I'd forgotten all about it. I think James lent it to Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore! So he's the one who must have given it me. I got it for Christmas you see, without any name."

Sirius wasn't listening; his eyes were focused far away. "The escapades we got up to with that cloak and no one ever suspected."

Their conversation wandered back and forth between their present predicament, how Harry had got expelled, Sirius' time at Hogwarts with Harry's parents, when his parents had met and where they eventually set up home together and started a family, and back again to what they should now do.

"My parents' home in Godric's Hollow, you said it was protected by a spell — is that something you could do? Do you know the spell?"

"The Fidelius Charm? Yes," said Sirius. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"And would it be safe to visit Gringotts?"

"For you, yes, it's possible. We can Apparate to Diagon Alley under the cloak, you slip it off and step right inside while I wait outside concealed. My picture is posted up everywhere. If I showed my face even for a minute, I might be recognised. But what's your plan?"

"And making it appear I was on that balcony at Hogwarts, Imperiusing Crabbe, how was that done?"

"Almost certainly using Polyjuice Potion. Harry, what are you planning to do?"

"Buy an inexpensive little house in a Muggle town where they'll never think to look for us. If I can occasionally be made to look like say, a middle-aged Muggle, that would be useful if we have to get anything from the town centre — yeah I'll draw out plenty of Galleons and Muggle pounds from Gringotts and conceal it in the place so we're independent — but otherwise, lie low."

"And do what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, don't you want to fight You-know-who?"

"Fight him? Why?"

Sirius' expression was of great surprise as he looked at Harry. "He killed your parents! He tried to kill you!"

"You think I can duel him?"

"Duel Voldemort?" Sirius laughed dryly. "You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Can I sneak up behind him and hex him when he's not looking?"

"There's no way you could get near him that way. Anyway, nobody knows where he is."

"Then I know exactly how to deal with such people — people I can't fight, can't defeat, can't even hurt but they can hurt you; I've done it all my life: either give in to them or hide where they can't find you."

"You can't spend the rest of your life hiding, Harry."

"At least I get to actually spend the rest of my life! Look, You-know-who is none of my business, is he? There are Ministry Aurors for things like that. I'm only fourteen years old for heaven's sake!"

Sirius remained silent.

"Will you help me or not? I'll find a way on my own if I have to," said Harry, rather sharply, then he added sullenly, "I've always been on my own."

Sirius stared at Harry for a few moments. "Of course, I'll help you, Harry. You're my godson."

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~~~ Secrets and Suspicions ~~~

Before the early fog had yet dispersed, Hedwig returned, skimming the misty surface like a sea wraith. She bore a message for Sirius in a sealed envelope.

"Clever girl, Hedwig!" cried Sirius. "I hope we may get plenty more fog and low cloud, then you won't be seen."

He opened the letter and read it carefully with a growing frown upon his face. Finally he put it back into the envelope and slipped it into an inner pocket of his ragged robes. He sensed Harry's inquiring look so did not wait to be questioned.

"He's... Dumbledore says to keep out of sight for a while. Avoid using Hedwig except in emergency."

Harry wasn't fooled. It was obvious that Sirius was keeping something back. "Anything about... me? Does he still think I did it?"

Sirius snorted. "He never believed you were guilty, Harry. Listen, Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard but... he plays his cards close to his chest. He had no choice but to expel you — going on how you described it to me yesterday."

"He didn't have to make it such a public humiliation!" said Harry, and there was a hard edge to his tone of voice.

"Harry... he had his reasons. I think he wanted it known — to see where it led... It brought those Death Eaters creeping back out of the woodwork for instance."

Harry digested that for a few moments then said very firmly, "He used me as bait so they would show their hand."

"Well..."

"He knew, didn't he? That's why he called you to help me?"

"Harry, there are larger issues at stake. Your dreams have convinced him that Voldemort is coming back — probably already back. The attack by the Death Eaters supports that belief. Why otherwise would they emerge now or be concerned about you?"

"I don't want any part of larger issues thank you very much," said Harry. "As if expulsion isn't enough to worry about!"

Sirius looked puzzled. "So... you really don't want to... avenge your parents, Harry?"

"No, I don't. Why would I? I didn't know them. I don't know You-know-who and I don't want to know him and I don't want to know about him. Let's worry about feeding ourselves and what I'm going to do with my life — and you too, of course," he added hastily.

Harry continued to gaze out upon the wintry scene but he could feel Sirius' eyes upon him. After almost a minute, Harry's face snapped around to meet his gaze — which was showing disappointment. "What!"

"I was just wondering," replied Sirius, "how you could ever be James' and Lily's son..."

Harry flushed. "In a way, I'm not, am I? I'm just a waste product of the Dursleys."

Sirius' disappointed expression turned to shock.

"Listen," said Harry, trying to soften the blow, "I've had over three years mostly away from the Dursleys to gain a new perspective on life. Being threatened by death changes your outlook as well. But don't expect me to suddenly be like my real parents — how could I?"

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~~~ Shopping ~~~

As the day wore on, they worked out a strategy together and applied it successfully over the following weeks on quiet days when few other shoppers were about. Sirius would transform into a dog and trot along with Harry who was hidden under the cloak. Sirius made sure to keep slightly apart from Harry, and wander randomly like any stray might, yet always using his keen ears and nose to keep Harry within range in case of emergencies — though what he might do without revealing himself was not clear. Harry, for his part, would enter shops invisibly, take whatever they needed, then leave his payment.

Twice, Harry thought he saw Rowle going into the Three Broomsticks tavern and once he could have sworn he heard Selwyn's cough in the same area — but they avoided the busy taverns and aimed for the quiet shops down the side streets so this did not concern them greatly.

Respectable clothing was purchased for Sirius and his godfather began to take more care of himself. Potion tools and ingredients were obtained and preparations made to produce Polyjuice Potions. A couple of padded sleeping bags made a big improvement to sleeping comfort both in terms of softness and keeping out the freezing weather.

The snow was a problem. Harry made sure to trudge through only the already well-trodden tracks. But by the end of January the snow had melted, to be replaced by wet weather which was still, nevertheless, bitterly cold.

The trip to Diagon Alley was put back but the weather was just an excuse. Sirius wanted Harry to give it more thought and Harry, ever reluctant to rush into a risky project, was inclined to agree with him. Searching the housing market might be a lengthy process anyway. The plan to buy a Muggle home was not forgotten, but it was shelved in the lesser-visited parts of their minds.

Throughout all this time, Harry had practised defensive moves and spells with Sirius who was surprised at his duelling skills and tried to push him further. Mostly, Harry badgered Sirius to teach him new moves, new stealth skills, and new defensive magical spells. Harry had never driven himself so severely in his life, so great was his resolve to protect himself and be ready should there be an attack on him.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry," said Sirius. "Apparition is difficult to master even in seventh year."

"But I've hardly moved an inch in three weeks," grumbled Harry, "and I'm trying, I'm really trying my utmost."

"Well, moving an inch is something. Oh, not of any practical use but it shows you are grasping the nature of destination. It's determination you're not focusing properly yet. You'll get it soon, I'm sure. Take a break; have a rest..."

"No. I don't suppose Voldemort will be having a rest from trying to kill me, will he!" Harry shifted his position and looked across at Hedwig's empty cage atop his school trunk. "Okay, a change is as good as a rest. We did two hours shield charms this morning. Let's go back to practising the summoning charm. I think I might get that eventually."

Sirius sighed. "You're more like Lily than James in that respect."

"Tell me again why we need this charm."

"Most especially, to manoeuvre things in a fight. A real life duel is usually dirty. It's a battle for survival. You need to be able to summon any nearby objects that might be used to attack the enemy or to shield yourself. Remember, a shield charm won't stop an Unforgivable but a stone slab or a strong door will give you temporary protection. Which reminds me, we need to revise your hover techniques again for—"

"I can already do levitations."

"I'm not talking about cushions, Harry! You need to be able to launch something heavy at the enemy with reasonable accuracy and speed."

"Right. That's good. I want to know anything that... I want to learn every sneaky, devious, tricky, stealthy spell you can teach me, Sirius!"

"Sneaky, you say?" Sirius smiled mischievously, and the care lines seemed to relax away from his face for a while. "Well then... you've come to the right person."

As well as the hours of spell practices, Sirius was also willing to help Harry study his course work and text books, particularly his Potions books — though he had left behind his latest notes and homework back in his hideaway at Hogwarts. Harry had the impression that his godfather was glad of something worthwhile to do after so many years of living a meaningless hell in Azkaban.

"Funny..." said Harry, as he searched through his bags, "there are library books here I don't remember borrowing... _Defensive Do's and Don'ts_ and _Attack is the First Resort._ There are more here too — in my trunk, look!"

Sirius glanced in. "Ah... so you got the Firebolt."

"It was you? You bought me the Firebolt?"

"Of course! Couldn't have Gryffindor losing the cup, could we?"

"You were there! You saw us win! It was YOU behind the stadium! I thought I saw a black shape when we were..."

Sirius winked.

Harry hesitated. "How'd you...?"

"Put your name on the order but charged it to my account. Goblins have their own laws; it makes no difference to them whether wizards regard me as a fugitive from justice. Only problem is, I cannot easily walk down to the bank and draw out cash. If a customer recognised me in there then there'd be a dozen Aurors waiting for me when I came out."

With Sirius' help and a lot of work on his own part, Harry progressed his studies and even began to hope he might by this means gain a reasonable magical education.

"Not everyone goes to Hogwarts, Harry," said Sirius. "Many youngsters are taught sufficiently at home. At the least you would get by, but seeing how hard you study I think you will surpass the average wizard easily by the time you reach adulthood."

"If I ever do reach it," said Harry, sombrely.

The trip to Gringotts and the subsequent agreement to purchase an inexpensive home in a small coastal town was much simpler than either of them had imagined. It was the subsequent paperwork that took time, that and waiting for the current residents, a growing Muggle family, to move out.

Sirius still appeared disappointed in Harry's attitude to live idly off the bequest his parents had left him and bury himself away from the world's difficulties where he could never be found.

"I'm not important," declared Harry, as they settled down to sardines on toast one evening by their fire, "Nobody cares about me so why should I care about anyone else."

Sirius was not convinced he really meant it. He was well enough acquainted with self-pity to recognise it in others. "There will always be those who care—"

"Who then? I could have rotted away by now. I might be dead for all anybody except you knows. I'm utterly on my own, always have been."

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—oOo—

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**Author's Notes**

_Just in case anyone thinks the start of this chapter was a bit OTT, I suffered severely-numbed feet as a kid when I went fishing one extremely cold day. I was okay till I got home then it was excruciating agony as my circulation returned. I don't recommend it! _

_A question has been raised that it might be normal to snap the wand of someone who gets expelled from Hogwarts. I don't know that there are many precedents for this. The only canon that comes to my mind is Hagrid when he was set up for opening the Chamber of Secrets. My take on that is that at least one student died (Moaning Myrtle.) I'd like to think the headmaster has discretion and likely the then headmaster, Dippet, didn't trust Hagrid as much as Dumbledore trusts Harry. _

_I wish to credit J K Rowling with a few of the lines which are brief, fair use, direct or modified quotes from Goblet of Fire (because I felt they were irreplaceable and the situation unavoidable) to preserve canon as closely as possible unless changed as a consequence of Chary's character._

_Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging._ :)

**- Hippothestrowl**

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